SARAHI got out of bed, unable to stand the restless feeling that had taken over. The silence of the room felt oppressive, and just lying there made my thoughts race even more. I stretched my arms above my head, rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension. But it wasn’t enough. My muscles still felt stiff, my mind still a mess.I glanced down at my stomach and placed a hand there, exhaling slowly. “This is all for you,” I whispered softly, a mix of frustration and warmth flooding through me. Marco’s strictness made more sense now, even if it grated on my nerves. But did he think I was some fragile doll who’d shatter if I so much as left my bed? The thought made me snort quietly.I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself.My eyes landed on the pile of clothes in the corner. Folding them wasn’t exactly exciting, but it would keep my hands busy. I moved to the pile and started sorting through it. One shirt, then another. The steady rhythm of crease, fold, stack was almo
SARAHI froze mid-step, my heart skipping a beat as I nearly collided with Marco. He stood in the hallway, his broad frame filling the space, and his face was a mixture of annoyance and something else I couldn’t quite place. Relief? Concern? Either way, I smiled automatically, my nerves kicking in.“You’re back early,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt. “What’s the occasion?”Marco’s eyes narrowed slightly as he crossed his arms. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing down here?”I blinked at him, playing innocent. “What do you mean? It’s just the kitchen.”“You know exactly what I mean, Sarah,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “If you needed something, one of the staff could’ve brought it to you. There’s no reason for you to be walking around.”I frowned, the tension in my chest flaring. “Marco, I’m pregnant, not a log of wood. I needed to stretch my legs and take a break from staring at the four corners of that room. Besides,” I added with a shrug, “I wanted t
SARAHI woke up feeling strangely disoriented. My body ached in ways I hadn’t anticipated, and as I stretched, I noticed the sheets tangled around me like a storm had passed through the bed. Blinking a few times to adjust to the soft light filtering through the curtains, I frowned. Why did the room feel so… off?My hands instinctively smoothed over the sheets, trying to piece together what had happened. It wasn’t until I turned my head and saw Marco sleeping beside me, his chest rising and falling steadily, that everything clicked into place.He was shirtless, his tanned skin illuminated softly by the morning light. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his expression was serene—almost unrecognizably peaceful compared to the intense, brooding man I was used to dealing with. For a moment, I froze, unable to process what I was seeing. Then, like a tidal wave, the memories from last night came crashing down.My face grew hot as I recalled the way he’d carried me to the room, his strong
SARAHI stood in front of the mirror, tilting my head slightly as I adjusted my earrings. My fingers brushed against the delicate pearls, the cool texture grounding me as a soft sigh escaped my lips. Tonight felt different. It wasn’t like the other nights we’d spent together—those moments marked by tension. This felt lighter, simpler. No obligations. No commands. Just Marco and me, stepping into something normal for once.I took a step back to admire myself in the reflection, smoothing the fabric of my dress. It was a deep red, a color I didn’t wear often but felt right for tonight. The material hugged my body in all the right places, the neckline bold enough to make me feel confident but still subtle enough to stay within my comfort zone. I turned slightly, letting the hem swirl softly around my legs, and smiled.“Not bad,” I murmured, tilting my head again.My makeup was understated, but I’d been careful with every stroke. A soft blush warmed my cheeks, a touch of eyeliner made my e
SARAHWhen Marco pulled into the parking lot, I practically jumped out of my seat, my excitement building. But as soon as we stepped out of the car and got a full view of the place, I froze.“Uh… Sarah,” Marco said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the massive neon sign above the entrance. “When you said chocolate spot, you didn’t mention this.”I followed his gaze, my cheeks heating up as I realized what he meant. “It’s… um… an amusement park? With chocolate?”He let out a sigh, shaking his head with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course. I let you pick one venue, and somehow, we end up in a kid’s playground.”I pouted, crossing my arms. “It’s not just a kid’s playground. It’s… an experience.”Marco gave me a look, half-amused and half-exasperated. “An experience?”“Don’t act like you’re not intrigued,” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the entrance. “We’re already here, so we might as well have some fun.”He chuckled, letting me drag him along. “You’re
SARAHI stepped out of the car, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement, each step fueled by my growing irritation. Marco was right behind me, his footsteps steady, but I didn’t care to wait for him to catch up. My focus was locked on Isabella, standing there like she belonged, her arms folded across her chest, her face a mask of indifference. That blank, self-righteous expression of hers was as irritating as ever. She looked smug and untouchable, as if she hadn’t caused enough chaos already.“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended. “Here to cause another scene, Isabella?”She didn’t even flinch.I stopped a few feet away, my arms dropping to my sides as I glared at her. She just stood there, perfectly still, like a statue carved from ice, her silence deliberate and calculated. The audacity of it made my blood simmer.“I asked you a question,” I snapped, taking a step closer. “What are you doing here, Isabella?”Nothing. Not a word, not even a fl
SARAHIsabella’s words hit me like a brick. My head jerked back, and for a second, I could only stare at her, trying to process what I’d just heard. It couldn’t be true. It had to be a joke. A really bad, tasteless joke.“You’re joking,” I said, my voice sharp but shaky. “You’ve got to be joking. Pregnant? For Marco? Are you even hearing yourself?”Her smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider, like she was enjoying every second of my disbelief. “Oh, Sarah,” she said, letting out a light laugh. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but no, I’m not joking.”I shook my head, still refusing to believe it. “Stop it. Just stop. You’re not pregnant, and if you are, it’s not for Marco. Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound?”Isabella tilted her head slightly, her expression oozing false sympathy. “I know this must be hard for you to accept, but denying it won’t change the truth.”The laugh that escaped me was bitter and sharp. “The truth?” I scoffed. “The only truth here is that you’ll say
SARAHI slammed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I tried to catch my breath. My heart was racing, my chest tight with frustration. How had it come to this? Just this morning, Marco and I were fine—happy, even. And now, a woman stood at our door, claiming she was pregnant with his child. The thought made my stomach twist.I paced the room, running a hand through my hair. It didn’t make any sense. Marco had been different lately—better. He wasn’t the man he used to be. He’d been attentive, loving, even vulnerable at times. He was mine. I knew that. So how could Isabella show up with a claim like that?My mind replayed the entire ordeal. Isabella’s smug expression, the way she casually dropped her “news” like a bomb, as if she knew it would tear everything apart. The way she laughed at me, daring me to question her. And Marco—God, Marco. He just stood there, offering nothing but a weak denial.“Unbelievable,” I muttered to myself, clenching my fists at my sides.I c
MARCOThey dragged me in like a dog. Wrists tied behind the chair, ribs throbbing from the last round of hits. Two of Marcel’s boys kept my arms tight while another threw a punch right into my stomach. I grunted, leaned forward, and caught a second one across my jaw.I didn’t scream or beg.I just looked straight ahead at him.Marcel.Sitting in his chair like some king, legs crossed, drink in his hand. There was a sick grin across his face like he was watching a comedy show.The guards landed another hit. One to my shoulder. One to my gut again. My body was wrecked, but my mind stayed sharp. I kept staring at him. Letting him know I wasn’t broken.When they were done, I coughed and spit a mouthful of blood to the side, then looked right back at him.“You done?” I muttered.He laughed. “You still got that mouth on you.”I didn’t reply. I just kept staring. Waiting. Hoping. Begging for anything — an opening, a mistake. I wasn’t dying in this chair. I’d kill him. Somehow, some way. He w
MARCOSmoke swallowed everything. Thick, sour, crawling down my throat. I couldn’t see five feet in front of me. Couldn’t hear anything but that damn ringing — sharp and endless like it was coming from inside my brain. Felt like the world cracked in half, and I was standing right at the center of it.My knees buckled as I took a few shaky steps. My hand went straight to my head, gripping tight like that’d make the noise stop. But it didn’t. It only got worse. I couldn’t even tell if I was walking forward or in circles.“Gio?” My voice came out broken. Dry. Weak.“Petrov?”Nothing.“Tony?” I tried louder. “Denis!”Still nothing.My heartbeat was the only real sound now. That, and the crunch of debris under my boots as I stumbled ahead. My eyes burned — from smoke, from panic, I didn’t know. I blinked hard, over and over, until the haze started to shift.Then I saw them.My heart dropped. I mean really dropped — like the floor disappeared underneath me.All four of them were down. Flat
MARCOWe moved slow down the corridor, shadows thick around us, every step tight and careful. The walls felt like they were closing in more with every turn. My gun was warm in my hand, not from use, but from how long I’d been gripping it. I didn’t loosen my fingers. Couldn’t. Not now.Denis came up beside me, pressing closer to the wall, breathing heavy but steady. His sleeve was darker than before — the blood still hadn’t stopped. But he kept moving. That’s the kind of man he was.“Its clear now Marcel knows,” Denis said, voice low.“I know that, Marcel right?” I responded, even though I already knew the answer.He nodded. “Maybe he thinks its not you. But he knows someone’s here. He’s spooked. Movement in the north wing, checkpoints locking up tighter.”I looked ahead, eyes narrowing at the half-lit hall we were creeping down. “What where Sarah is being kept?”“That’s the thing,” Denis said. “Still no extra traffic to the east side. Either Damien doesn’t believe it’s you, or he’s wa
MARCOThe door clicked shut behind us as we got into the warehouse, the sound barely louder than a breath, but it made my shoulders tighten anyway. No turning back now.Inside, the hallway stretched ahead, cold and narrow, concrete walls sweating under dim, buzzing lights. Shadows shifted along the floors, long and slow like they were alive. We kept close to the edges, moving low and tight, every step thought out. No wasted moves. No wasted noise.Denis was right behind me, eyes glued to the small handheld device strapped to his wrist. The screen flickered every couple of seconds, showing black and white camera feeds from inside the compound. He tapped the screen twice, then waved me over with a sharp flick of his fingers.“Straight two halls, take a left,” he whispered, voice so low it barely stirred the air. “One guard at the station. He’s sitting, not moving.”I gave a tight nod. Lifted my hand and gave the signal. Two fingers. Tony and Gio caught it instantly, adjusting their posi
MARCELI kicked back in my chair, boots up on the desk, glass of whiskey hanging loose in my hand. The oak groaned under me, but I didn’t give a damn. I earned this seat. I earned everything. Sarah was mine now. Marco? That bastard was a ghost, a scared little whisper hiding in the dark, too broken to come for her.I took a slow sip, letting the burn roll down my throat, and smiled to myself. All the noise, all the fight she had when we first grabbed her… it was fading. Day by day. I saw it in her eyes. Less spark. Less bite. She was still holding on to Marco, sure. But that wouldn’t last. It never did. Not when you had no one left to believe in. Not when all the walls closed in.All I needed was time. Time and a little patience. Women like her, they didn’t fall easy — but when they did, they fell hard. I’d treat her good once she saw it. Once she stopped looking at me like I was the enemy. She didn’t get it yet, but she would. I’d give her everything. New clothes, good food, no more
MARCOAs we moved closer to the warehouse, the world around us shifted. No more breathing room. No more second chances. I lifted my hand, fingers moving in sharp signals the team knew by heart. Petrov and Gio broke off fast, slipping into the tree line to handle the chaos. Their job was simple: create enough noise, enough blood, to keep Marcel’s eyes off me. My job was simpler. Get to Sarah. Bring her home.I moved ahead, leading my half of the team. Tony and Denis stayed tight behind me, heading toward the wing where Denis swore they kept her. The woods around us swallowed the sound of our boots, every step careful, every move sharp. The cold night clung to my skin, biting a little, but I welcomed it. It kept me awake. It kept me locked in.Up ahead, a small light flickered behind a tree line. I crouched low, holding my fist up to stop the others. Two guards patrolled near the inner fence, walking lazy, rifles slung low, no care in their step.I looked at Tony and jerked my chin towa
MARCOThe safehouse stank of sweat and gun oil. It had been a day now. One long, heavy day. I stood over the table, arms braced against the wood, staring down at the maps, the grainy photos, the scribbled notes we had piled together. Every street, every guard rotation, every weak spot Marcel thought he hid. It was all laid out in front of me like a body waiting for burial.The guys were scattered around the room, geared up. Tony sat sharpening a knife that didn’t need sharpening. Gio leaned against the wall, checking his pistol again and again. Petrov stood by the window, looking out like he expected hell to pull up in a car. Denis was at the far end of the table, hands flat, answering the last of our questions like a man who knew his life depended on it. It did.“Alright,” I said, my voice steady even if everything inside me was screaming. “One more time.”I tapped the map with the tip of my finger. “We roll in here. Two SUVs. No fancy shit. We stay fast, clean. Denis says the east f
ISABELLAI sat near the window with a half-full glass of wine, legs crossed, posture easy. Outside, the yard stretched quiet under soft light, the fences glowing under the dim wash of security lamps. The wind barely moved. Even the trees felt too still. It looked like peace, but it wasn’t. It was something else. Something pretending to be calm.Behind me, Marcel was laughing, his voice bouncing off the walls like this place was some damn hotel and not the cage it really was. Two of his men stood with him, drinking, cracking jokes like they didn’t have a care in the world. That’s what bothered me. They weren’t tense like they used to be. There was no edge in the air. No clipped words or extra rounds being loaded. Just pride. Stupid, loud pride.Marcel turned a bit, speaking louder now, wanting me to hear. “You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He never does. “I think Marco’s done. Crawled into whatever hole he came out of, dragging his tail behind him. Wallowing in that
SARAHThe cold woke me before the pain did. My body was already curled tight, but it didn’t help. The chill still found its way into my bones, into my stomach, into everything. I tried to stretch, just a little, but my back screamed and my legs cramped. My head throbbed with that dull pressure that never really left. I didn’t even open my eyes right away. I just laid there, breathing through it, waiting for the nausea to pass.I was starving. And still, the idea of food made my stomach twist. It wasn’t just the baby. It was the food they brought. Cold, bland, rough like they’d scraped it off the bottom of a pan and tossed it at me out of pity. Or worse, duty. I’d thrown it up more than once. Now I just took small bites and held it down as long as I could. My throat stayed dry. My mouth too. I’d started cutting what little food I got into pieces, counting the bites like that somehow helped. It didn’t. But it gave me something to do, something to control.I turned onto my side slowly. T