Page 75 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

Twenty minutes later, I’m soaking in lavender-scented water that’s just hot enough to ease the constant ache in my lower back. Before she rushed off to work, Jessie added Epsom salts and a few drops of essential oil that makes the whole bathroom smell like a spa. The water laps gently against the sides of the tub.

This apartment feels simultaneously like home and like a place I’ve outgrown. The walls are covered with photos from college and pictures of Jessie and me at various bars and restaurants around the city. There’s a stack of romance novels on the bathroom counter that I used to read religiously, back when my biggest relationship problems involved men who didn’t text back fast enough or who forgot to call when they said they would.

Now I’m pregnant with the child of a man who runs a criminal organization, hiding from threats I don’t fully understand, and trying to decide whether love is enough to build a future when that future might include more lies and more midnight disappearances.

I lean back, letting the water slowly cool as my thoughts wander. About forty minutes later, my phone buzzes on the counter beside the tub, and I lean over to check the caller ID. Eli’s name appears on the screen, which is unusual enough to make me immediately concerned. Why would the bartender be calling me when I don’t work there anymore?

I answer on the third ring. “Hey, Eli. What’s up?”

His voice is panicked and rushed, barely recognizable as the laid-back guy I’ve known for years. “Sabrina, thank God. Something happened to Jessie at work tonight. There was an accident with some broken glass, and she had to be rushed to the emergency room.”

The bottom drops out of my world as I scramble to sit up in the tub, water sloshing everywhere and soaking the bathmat. “What? Is she okay? Which hospital?”

“She’s conscious but they’re still working on her. She lost a lot of blood from cuts on her arms and needed stitches. The ambulance took her a while ago, and I thought you should know.”

My chest tightens with panic as worst-case scenarios flood my mind. “Which hospital, Eli.”

“Jurgen Medical Center on Industrial Boulevard. The EMT said it was the closest Level Two Trauma Center near us. She kept asking for you before they took her in the ambulance.”

I’m not familiar with Jurgen Medical Center, so I repeat the name in my mind while reaching for a towel, already planning the fastest route to Industrial Boulevard from my apartment. “I’m leaving in a few minutes. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Just get there as soon as you can. The doctors said the next few hours are critical.” He sounds shaky. “I saw a shard of glass protruding from her thigh. Maybe her femoral artery…” He trails off before speaking again. “I have to get back to work but keep us updated.”

The line goes dead, leaving me staring at my phone with wet hands and a heart that’s beating so fast it makes me dizzy. The thought of Jessie seriously injured, rushed to the nearest emergency room while asking for me, makes my stomach clench with dread. I need to get to her immediately.

I climb out of the tub and dry off as quickly as possible, pulling on the first clothes I can find. I’ve chosen non-maternity jeans that barely fit over my growing belly, a sweater that’s soft enough to be comforting, and shoes I can slip on without bending over too far.

The apartment feels too quiet as I grab my keys and wallet, checking my phone one more time to make sure I didn’t miss any additional calls from Eli. There’s a moment where I consider calling Nikandr. He’d want to know what happened, and part of me craves the comfort of his voice during a crisis like this.

No, it’s late, and every second feels heavier than the last. I don’t want to waste time arguing about security protocols or having him insist on sending a team to escort me. Jessie needs me now, and I can handle a drive to the hospital by myself.

I lock the apartment behind me and hurry toward the parking lot, my mind already focused on navigating traffic. It’s only as I reach my car that I remember the guards who have been discreetly following me everywhere since I left the estate.

They’re parked across the street in a black SUV, trying to look inconspicuous and failing spectacularly. When they see me heading for my car at this hour, one of them gets out and starts walking toward me with purpose. “Ma’am, if you’re going somewhere, we’d prefer to drive you.”

I shake my head and unlock my car door. “I’m going to the hospital. My best friend was injured, and I don’t have time to explain the situation or wait for you to clear it with whoever you need to clear it with.”

He looks unhappy but doesn’t try to stop me. “Then we’ll follow behind you. For safety.”

I shrug. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t slow me down.”

I climb into my car and start the engine, pulling out of the parking lot with the SUV following. The streets are mostly empty at this hour, which makes it easier to navigate toward Industrial Boulevard and the hospital where Jessie is fighting for her life.

It’s only when I’ve been driving for twenty minutes through increasingly industrial areas that doubt begins to creep in. I haven’t seen any signs for Jurgen Medical Center, which I’ve never heard of, and the neighborhoods I’m passing don’t look like places where a major hospital would be located. The buildings are mostly warehouses and manufacturing facilities, with very few streetlights and no foot traffic.

Maybe I took a wrong turn. Maybe Eli gave me the wrong address in his panic. Maybe I misheard him because I was in the bathtub and the sound was distorted.

I slow down and pull into an empty parking lot beside a warehouse, intending to call Eli back and get better directions. The guards’ SUV pulls in behind me, and I see them talking ontheir radio, probably checking in with whoever is monitoring my movements.

My phone shows no missed calls and no text messages with additional information. I’m about to dial Eli’s number when I see headlights approaching fast from the direction I just came.

Too fast.

A black van speeds toward the guards’ SUV and slams into the side with enough force to send it spinning across the asphalt. The sound of metal crushing metal fills the air, followed by the hiss of steam from a damaged radiator.

Before I can process what I’m seeing, another van races toward my car from the opposite direction.

The realization crashes over me with crystal clarity. This isn’t an accident or a coincidence. I’ve been lured here deliberately, led away from safety and witnesses to a location where no one will hear me scream.

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