“I was planning to apologize when I get home.” The admission emerges with some embarrassment. “I thought showing him the gender results and learning them together would be a way to start over.”
“Good.” Her smile carries approval and relief. “You two want the same things. You’re just approaching them from different directions while dealing with more pressure than most couples ever face.”
A soft knock interrupts our conversation, and the nurse appears with an appointment card for next week. “Dr. Layton wants to see you Thursday at ten o’clock for the blood pressure recheck.”
I take the card and slip it into my purse beside the precious envelope. “Thank you.”
As we leave the clinic, Harper links her arm through mine while we walk toward the parking space right in front of the clinic, where Anton waits beside the black SUV. The sunlight feels warm against my face, and for the first time in days, I feel hopeful about resolving the tension between Iskander and me.
“I’m glad you came with me today.” I squeeze Harper’s arm gratefully. “I would have been nervous learning all this alone.”
“That’s what best friends are for.” She grins at me with the same mischievous expression she’s worn since we were sixteen. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you actually rest instead of working yourself into early labor.”
We’re still laughing when the attack comes.
Anton stands just three feet away from us, scanning the area with professional vigilance, when masked figures emerge from behind parked cars like they teleported there. Everything happens so fast that my mind struggles to process the sequence of events.
A gunshot cracks through the afternoon air, and Anton staggers backward, clutching his chest. I pray he’s wearing his vest as he spins and falls down onto his belly. Harper turns toward the sound, opening her mouth to scream, when someone grabs her from behind and covers her mouth until she slumps. Then he chucks her over beside Anton’s fallen body like she’s trash instead of a human being.
I stand frozen in shock, watching my best friend drop to the asphalt. Before I can move or cry out, rough hands grab my arms from behind. “Don’t make a sound.” A man’s voice hisses againstmy ear while cold metal presses against my belly. “One wrong move and your babies die first.”
Terror floods my system as the reality crashes over me. The gun against my pregnant stomach, Harper unconscious and bleeding, and Anton motionless on the ground is all real. Everything Iskander warned me about and every precaution he insisted upon still wasn’t enough.
I struggle against the hands dragging me toward a waiting sedan, but the gun barrel presses harder against my abdomen, making me freeze with protective instinct for the lives depending on me.
“Please.” The word emerges as barely a whisper. “Don’t hurt them.”
“That depends entirely on your cooperation.” The masked man forces me into the backseat of the car while another figure slides in beside me, maintaining the weapon’s threatening position against my belly. “Stay quiet and still, and nobody else gets hurt.”
As the car pulls away from the clinic parking lot, I catch a glimpse of Harper’s motionless form through the rear window. Is she breathing? Is Anton alive? The questions spiral through my mind while panic claws at my chest.
The envelope with our babies’ gender results crumples in my fist as the masked man beside me maintains steady pressure with his gun. These babies might never get the chance to be born if I make the wrong choice in the next few minutes. “Where are you taking me?” I force the question through lips that feel numb with shock.
“Somewhere your boyfriend will come looking for you.” The driver’s voice carries satisfaction that makes me quiver. “Mikhail Balakin wants to have a conversation with Iskander Taranov, and you’re going to help arrange that meeting.”
Mikhail Balakin. The name Iskander spoke with such hatred. The enemy he’s been trying to eliminate before walking away from his criminal empire. Now I understand why he was so desperate to keep me protected though every security measure felt excessive until this moment when none of it mattered.
The car speeds through Charleston traffic while I sit trapped between armed men who see me as nothing more than leverage against the man I love. Every bump in the road sends waves of anxiety through me, and I worry about my blood pressure spiking while carrying babies who need me to stay calm and safe.
My phone rests in my purse, probably useless since these men certainly anticipated Iskander would try to track me through it. The gender results envelope remains clutched in my hand, a symbol of the future we might never get to share if this goes wrong.
Through the car windows, I watch familiar Charleston streets pass by as we head toward whatever location Mikhail has chosen for his confrontation with Iskander. The Spanish moss draped trees and historic architecture look surreal from inside this nightmare, like pieces of a normal world I might never see again.
“How long have you been watching me?” The question emerges despite my fear, driven by need to understand how completely I’ve been exposed.
The man beside me adjusts his grip on the weapon without answering, but the driver glances at me in the rearview mirror.“Long enough to know your schedule, your habits, and exactly when you’d be most vulnerable.”
I flinch. They’ve been studying me for weeks to learn my routines and identify opportunities to strike when Iskander’s protection couldn’t reach me. They clearly chose my appointment day because it’s about the only time I leave his estate these days. Every moment I felt watched but dismissed as paranoia was actually hostile surveillance by people planning this exact scenario.
I close my eyes and try to control my breathing, remembering Dr. Layton’s warnings about stress and blood pressure. The babies depend on me staying as calm as possible while navigating whatever Mikhail Balakin has planned. The envelope in my hand reminds me Iskander and I have too much to lose to let this destroy our future.
When I open my eyes again, we’re leaving the city limits and heading toward rural areas where screaming won’t bring help. Whatever happens next, I have to survive it for the children I’m carrying and the man who loves me enough to go to war for our family. The afternoon sunlight that felt so hopeful twenty minutes ago now seems to mock the terror filling my chest as we drive toward an uncertain fate.
