by Skyla Madi
“Do you expect me to get an abortion?” I questioned. “I—”
“No,” he cut me off. “I don’t expect that from you, nor would I ever ask you to get one. I’ll understand if you want to.”
My hands moved to my stomach. I stared down at my still-flat stomach. Just imagining our baby growing inside me made my heart swell with love. I blinked when Stephen covered my hands with his. He pressed a kiss against my shoulder.
“I won’t allow you to do this alone. I’ve seen firsthand what raising a baby alone can do to a woman when my mother tried to raise me herself.”
“What do you mean? You said your mother died in childbirth.”
His body tensed against mine. I was waiting for him to push me away and clamp shut. Stephen pressed another kiss against my shoulder.
“I lied,” he said softly.
I turned to glance at him over my shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he opened them as if he could feel me looking at him.
“Why?”
“I didn’t want you to know that I grew up in the slums. My life was shit, and I knew that if I told you then you would want to know more. I wasn’t ready to tell you about me.” He smiled and then reached up to stroke my cheek. “We barely knew each other.”
“We still don’t, Stephen,” I reminded him. “You know more about me than I know about you.”
“Mmm,” he hummed.
I narrowed my eyes at him when his hand trailed up my stomach to cup my breast.
“I know every inch of you.”
My body instantly reacted to his touch. A moan slipped past my lips when he started massaging my sensitive breasts. He nibbled the skin of my neck and shoulder.
“Stephen,” I whined. “You’re only doing this to change the subject.”
“Is it working?” he questioned softly.
The words died down when his hand slipped between my legs. One finger instantly started stroking my clit. I moaned as I spread my legs a little wider. It didn’t take long for me to orgasm. Stephen gripped my hips and raised me slightly. My head fell back against his shoulder when he slowly sank into me. When my ass settled on top of his thighs, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest.
“I fucking love feeling your pussy clenching around my dick,” he groaned. “I love feeling every inch of you.”
I opened my mouth but slammed it shut before the words escaped. Telling him that I loved him now wouldn’t be the best thing to do. He had agreed to help me raise the baby. Stephen hadn’t made any promises.
“I can’t wait to watch my baby grow inside you,” he said hoarsely.
His hands on my hips started to lift me up and down his dick. Every time he lowered me, he would thrust up. I gripped the sides of the bathtub. Moans fell from my lips as I lost myself in pleasure. A loud alarm suddenly filled the house. Stephen reacted instantly. He pushed me away from him as he climbed out of the bathtub.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
The door slammed closed behind him. Shock washed through me as I sat there. After a few seconds, reality settled in. I climbed out of the bath and rushed to the door. Ripping it open, I pulled on the first piece of clothing I found. The alarm was still blaring loudly. My hands shook badly as I opened the bedroom door. Deadly silence suddenly filled the house. With cautious steps, I crept down the stairs. I tried to keep my breathing as even as possible. It was hard to do with the panic filling me. A sound to my left made my eyes snap toward it. My mouth fell open. Stephen stood at the sliding doors with his gun in one hand. He was aiming at something. I jerked when he suddenly fired. The sound made my ears ring. Curses fell from his lips as he spun around. His eyes fell on me. I winced. I could feel the anger radiating from him. Stephen dropped his gun on the table and then stormed toward me.
“I fucking told you to stay in the bathroom,” he growled.
“I—”
“I wish that you could just fucking listen to me.” He gripped my arms and gently shook me. “Someone was in the house, Alia. You could’ve gotten hurt!”
“I’m not stupid,” I muttered as I raised my hand.
The pocketknife he had given me the day we went to the music festival always stayed with me. He muttered something under his breath as he walked into the kitchen again. Grabbing the phone, he typed something before slamming it down on the counter. Stephen turned to me again.
“Go upstairs and stay there.”
“I’m not a fucking child or a dog you can order around, Stephen.”
“No. You’re far from a fucking child, but if I have to treat you like one, I will.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as I glared at him. “Do you want me to call you daddy too?”
His mouth fell open and then slammed shut again. He started muttering under his breath as he glanced around. My eyes dropped to his dick. I smiled. My words affected him more than I thought.
“Get upstairs, Alia.” He paused. “Please.”
My mouth opened but slammed shut when he narrowed his eyes at me. I swallowed. Arguing with him wouldn’t get me any answers. With one last glance at him, I walked up the stairs again. I changed into one of his clean shirts before getting onto the bed. Being inside the room meant that I had no clue what was going on. I heard when the police arrived, but that was about it. To keep my mind from creating scary scenarios, I focused on the humour. Stephen was naked. He didn’t come upstairs to pull on pants. Was he still naked?
Two hours passed, and there was still no sign of him. I was tired and slightly hungry, so I decided to go downstairs. I paused at the top of the stairs to listen. The voices coming from the kitchen sounded angry. A police officer entered the house carrying a black bag. Uncertainty filled me as I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Nobody noticed me. My knees weakened as I stared at the wall. Pictures of Stephen and me decorated it. Some were taken at the beach house, and some were taken at my house.
The perfect slut was spray painted above it along with a few other crude words. Tears filled my eyes as I stared at the photos of me naked. There was even some with guys I didn’t know.
“Alia, I told you to stay upstairs,” Stephen said.
I could hear the anger in his voice. “I’m not a whore,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said softly. Stephen pulled me against his body. “Don’t touch anything.”
He pressed his lips against my hair before walking away. I turned to watch him. A few more officers entered the kitchen. Stephen stood by the island talking to a familiar-looking guy. I felt extremely out of place dressed in only his shirt. With the pictures behind me, it only made me feel worse. I took a step forward but froze when movement from the corner of my eyes caught my attention. I screamed then dropped to the floor as glass broke. Someone fell down next to me and pushed me under the table. I used my hands to cover my ears when they started shooting.
Glass shattered. Men yelled at each other. I could hear the bullets hitting the table above me. The man in front of me used his body to shield mine. I heard a cry before I saw the body drop down a few feet in front of me. His head was turned toward us with his eyes wide open. A small hole was located in the middle of his forehead where blood seeped onto the floor. All sounds were suddenly cut off. Silence filled the house. My heart was beating loudly in my ears. I was shaking badly. The man on the floor held my full attention.
“Alia? Are you okay?”
“We’re stuck under the table.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s unharmed but in shock.”
“We have two men down.”
Silence followed the brief conversation. The man moved in front of me. I watched as he crawled forward toward the man. He reached out and pressed a finger to his neck.
“Dawnson is down,” he called.
“Did someone call for backup?” Stephen asked.
“Yeah,” someone called out. “They’re two blocks out.”
“Movement at two o’clock.”
That wa
s the last warning before the gunshots started again. I screamed as I dropped to the floor. It was like being stuck in a warzone. Please keep Stephen and our baby safe. My ears were ringing by the time it fell silent again. The man with me was speaking, but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. He gripped my arm and pulled me onto my knees. I was pushed forward—a clear indication of what he wanted me to do. He crawled from under the table first and then pulled me out.
“Keep low but move as fast as you can.”
I sucked in a breath as I crouched. With one last glance at the man, I made a run for the island. The moment I rounded the corner, my eyes fell on Stephen. He was pressed against the cabinets, busy with his gun. The familiar man I saw earlier was next to him. He had his hands pressed against his abdomen. It did nothing to stop the bleeding.
“Alia.” My eyes snapped to Stephen. “I need you to keep pressure on the wound.”
I shook my head. I wanted to be as far away from here as I possibly could.
“Come on, baby. I need you to be brave,” he said softly.
“I-I can’t.”
“Look at me.” I looked back up at him. “I’m here with you. I can’t protect both of you if I have to keep pressure on his wound. He’s losing consciousness. Be brave for me, baby. You can do it.”
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I crawled closer to him. He took my hands with his and placed them over the man’s wound.
“You got to press down as hard as you can. No matter what, don’t move your hands.”
“O-okay.”
“It’ll be over soon, baby. I promise.”
The words they said flew over my head. All I could do was stare at the blood that quickly covered my hands. Stephen sat to the left of the man with his back to us. This could’ve been him. He was a cop, and that meant he placed himself in danger every day.
“Backup is here!”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The kitchen was a mess. Broken glass and other debris laid on the floor along with blood. My hands were still covered in dry blood. My mind was still filled with memories of the dead body. Two hours ago, backup arrived to help us. I had watched them carrying out the dead man and then the one who was injured. They said they doubted he would make it. Stephen was giving them the details about what happened while I sat on the couch. I was past being exhausted. My body had shut down, but my mind wouldn’t. I tugged the blanket tighter around my body. It was cold. I felt cold. It could’ve been me that died. Or Stephen. I would’ve lost him even before we started our life together. Our child would grow up without a father.
“Hey.”
My eyes snapped up. Stephen was crouched in front of me. He hesitated slightly before placing his hand on my knee. “I’m going to call Patrick to come pick you up.”
I shook my head. He wanted me gone, away from him. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t leave him after what just happened. What if they came back? What if they managed to kill him?
“Alia, I need you somewhere safe.”
“No,” I croaked. “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. Especially Tyler. She’s pregnant, Stephen, and she already has her own stuff to worry about.”
He squeezed my knee as he opened his mouth to speak.
“She’s right.” I looked up at the man standing next to us. He gave me a small smile before looking back at Stephen. “We don’t know if it was an attempt on her life or yours. Putting anyone else in danger is a big risk. Besides, it’ll be best if you stay here, just in case something happens. A few of us will be staying so you have backup.”
“Fine,” Stephen said. He got up and walked away without looking at me.
“Is he really in danger?” I questioned before the man could walk away. I could see the hesitation in his eyes as he glanced down at me.
His eyes moved to Stephen. “Your man is a badass cop. He has gotten a bunch of guys arrested for drug dealing and human trafficking. With the new case about the missing girls, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted to silence him. Don’t worry about it. Stephen is a big motherfucker. He’s good at what he does.”
The fear in me rose as I watched him. He stood to the side talking with an officer before moving into the kitchen. I’d seen the photos of those girls. I pressed a hand against my mouth as I felt the bile rise. The blanket slipped from my shoulders as I struggled to my feet. I barely took a few steps before throwing up. Someone appeared at my side and started rubbing my back. Another hand moved the hair from my face. My body was shaking so badly I could barely stand on my own. The temperature had also risen, which made me feel even worse.
“S-Stephen.”
“I’m here,” he said softly against my ear. “Are you done?”
I nodded. An arm wrapped around my waist. I was swung up into his arms. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I buried my face against his chest. Stephen carried me into his bedroom. After washing the blood from my hands, he placed me in the shower. He made sure to wash every inch of my body. Stephen dressed me in one of his shirts and then carried me to the bed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered as he stroked my cheek. “I should have made sure you were okay.”
“I’m just tired.” I placed my hand over his to keep him touching me.
He glanced at the clock before looking down at me again. “It’s late. Get some sleep, baby. I’m going to see if I can get a doctor to check you over.”
“I’m really fine, Stephen. Puking is one of the things that happen during pregnancy.”
“You get morning sickness.” He paused. “It’s not normal for you to feel this way. We can talk about this later. Get some sleep.”
“Stay.”
“I’ll be right back, baby.” He leaned down to brush his lips against my forehead.
I allowed the sleep to pull me under the moment Stephen got into bed with me. With his arm wrapped tightly around me, and the familiar scent filling me, I drifted off to sleep. It was filled with gunshots and dead bodies. Stephen was one of them. He bled out on the floor because nobody wanted to help me.
I was bent over his body, screaming for help, when the man suddenly arrived. It was the same man who had once tried to kidnap me. He laughed as he pointed the gun at me. Agonizing pain shot through my abdomen, making me scream. Darkness threatened to pull me under. It was when my eyes shot open that I realized that the pain was real. I felt dizzy and extremely hot. Throwing back the sheets, I pushed myself up on shaky arms. The moment I moved my legs, I could feel the dampness between them. Panic was the only emotion I felt as I stared down at the blood.
“S-Stephen!” I screamed. “Stephen!”
I moved to the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. The room spun. Seconds later, I found myself on the floor. I clutched my stomach as I cried out again. The last thing I saw was men running into the room before fading into darkness.
***
“Alia? They said you could hear me. I need you to wake up for me, baby. Please.”
***
“Hey baby. Everyone is here waiting for you to wake up. Your mother is really worried. She needs you to wake up. I need you to wake up so I know you’re okay. The doctors said that you’re fine. Wake up for me, baby.”
***
I felt empty. It was the first thing that registered the moment I opened my eyes. I stared up at the ceiling as I waited for the fog to clear. It was easy to figure out where I was. The constant beeping was just as irritating as the needle in my arm. A chair creaked to my left, and a second later, I felt a hand placed over mine. My eyes fell on Patrick as he leaned forward.
“Welcome back to the world of the living,” he said.
I appreciated the fact that he was trying to use humour to lighten the mood. There was no humour in this situation. There was nothing to smile or laugh about at all.
“Do you remember what happened?”
I stared at him silently. Of course I remembered. The pain wouldn’t be easily forgotten nor would the blood. I had lost my baby. Our baby. My eyes m
oved around the room, but it was empty. Stephen wasn’t here. I knew he was here at some point since I heard him speaking to me.
“You’ve been out for almost forty-eight hours.” He paused. “The doctors had to give you a blood transfusion.”
I turned to stare up at the ceiling again as he continued to speak. I wanted to scream at him to get out so I could let the tears fall.
“I’m sorry, Alia,” he muttered.
Giving my hand a squeeze, he got up and walked out of the room. Not even a second later, the door opened and closed again. I opened my mouth, ready to scream at the person to get out. My eyes fell on Stephen hesitating at the end of the bed. He opened his mouth but then closed it again. Tears welled up in my eyes as he stepped closer. He swallowed loudly.
“Alia—”
“It’s gone,” I whispered. “Our baby is gone.”
“I know.”
Stephen hesitated and then leaned down. I moved onto my side so he could climb onto the bed with me. The moment his arms wrapped around me, I stared to sob. I pressed my face against his neck as I clutched his shirt. He had no reason to be with me anymore. We weren’t tied together. Stephen could leave me now.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I clutched Stephen’s hand tightly as the doctor checked me over. He was still young—about mid-thirties—with blond hair and pale green eyes. He wrote something down on a clipboard before turning to us. He smiled.
“Everything looks good, but I’m still worried. I’ve ordered some tests that need to be done. We’ll discuss that once I have the results.” He stepped closer to the bed.
“What caused the miscarriage?” Stephen asked.
“It’s hard to tell. A miscarriage could be caused by anything. My best guess is that your miscarriage was caused by stress. Emotional stress holds a big factor in pregnancies. As far as I could tell, you were about seven weeks pregnant.” He paused. “The embryo attached to the uterus but not as it should. If it was detected earlier, there might have been a way to save the pregnancy.”
