All Chapters of Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

CamilaI’ve never felt so certain that my mind is about to split in two.I want him ... I need him ...I fucking hate him.The things Asher has done to me that merit cutting him from my life are numerous. But with his cock pushing its way inside me, sending waves of pleasure that make my mouth water, it’s easy to justify them.It’s even easier to forget them.Throwing my head back, I dig my nails into his shoulders. His shirt blocks my traction; I yank at it until it’s over his head. With his skin exposed to me, I drag my fingers roughly over his back, creating red rows that make him hiss.I’ve never been elated at hurting someone before. But the thought that I can hurt him is addicting. I can’t focus enough to control it—and why should I try?When his cock forced its way into my mouth, it drove all thoughts out of my mind. When he forced me to swallow his cum, it made me crave more.I shouldn’t feel like this toward him. He’s a monster! He’s been tricking me since day one! Yet I can’

CamilaI pick up my phone, then set it down again on my bed.Come on. Just make the call!It’s a struggle knowing what you have to do while being unable to do it. After what happened with Asher, I returned to my bedroom with my spine strengthened by determination. But that all failed the second I pulled up Adriana’s number in my phone. Seeing her name made what I had to do become real.Frustrated by my inability to ask for help, I throw my phone down, holding my scalp in both hands. I should be better than this! I’d tell anyone else to fight for their life and escape, to not hesitate no matter what. Annoyed at myself, I head into my bathroom. Dad’s brooch will make me feel better.Opening the cupboard under the sink, I feel for where I placed it in the box of documents. My fingers discover nothing but air. Ice creeps over my heart. I yank out the box, digging through the contents with increasing fear.No! Where is it?“Looking for this?”I shoot my eyes upward in panic. Layla stands i

CamilaMy nails tug at the prayer beads on my wrist. I debated wearing them—it felt like the antithesis of my drive to escape Asher to end up with his prayer beads in my possession. But somehow, the sensation of them hugging my wrist brings comfort.His eyes were full of so much torment when he gave them to me. It was overwhelming; I almost backed out of my plan. But he left so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to change my mind.Though he assured me he wouldn’t stop me from leaving, I wasn’t about to get sloppy. The next morning when the van arrived, I was watching for it from my window. Layla had instructed me to work my way covertly down to the pantry once I spotted it.With sweat collecting in every crevice of my body, I tiptoed to the pantry. Layla wasn’t there, but my mother was.“Camila,” she gushed, hugging me tight. “Is this really going to work?”“Yes,” I said, faking my bravado. Helping her into the large wooden box stamped with faded markings from whatever farm was selli

CamilaWhen I see the doctor, I rub my eyes. For a moment he looks like the doctor Asher summoned the day I learned I was pregnant. It’s not him though. It’s funny. I almost wish he was. Stop trying to look for connections back to him. You can’t be with Asher. You can’t.“Hello there,” the man says with a smile. “I’m Dr. Tillmore. You must be Ms. Halloway?”My mother and I share a quick look. Thanks to Jonah, we’ve been set up in a small house on the outskirts of the city. He’s arranged for false names for us as well. “Yes, that’s right,” I say.“Excellent, excellent.” He smacks his lips in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Lie back on the bed, and let’s see how far along you are.”“I thought Adriana would be here.” I glance at my phone for any messages. It’s a brand-new phone, a burner that’s meant to be disposed of after a single use. Jonah has gone all out on precautions. From what I know about the Grachev Bratva, I believe his paranoia is justified.The doctor shrugs lightly. “She

Camila“These are delicious!” I shovel the third pancake into my mouth. They’re silver-dollar size, perfect for two bites, though I’m making one work.My mother chuckles with delight at how I devour the breakfast she’s made. “Good; you need to eat as much as possible for that baby to be healthy.”“If that’s enough of a reason to eat a stack of these every morning, I’m game.”That draws a full-bodied laugh from her. “Here.” She arranges five more little pancakes onto my plate. “I can make more.”“Oh, no?—”“Nonsense, malyshka. It won’t take long.” To prove her point, she sways over to the large blue bowl on the small counter. There’s barely enough space for the eggs and a bag of flour, but she makes it work. She’s used to having less than this.Watching her whisk up more batter, I’m reminded of living with Asher. I wish I could stop thinking about that time, but it’s futile. That man and his world left an impact on me. As great of a cook as Danil was, nothing beats my mother’s home coo