Chapter 3 - The Contractions
The scarred man named Marcos pulled a wicked-looking hunting knife from his leather belt.
The serrated steel blade gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights of the underground bunker.
Julian chuckled softly as he slowly backed away toward the open elevator.
"Make it look like a tragic, unexplainable accident, Marcos," Julian instructed.
"The grieving widower angle plays exceptionally well in the mainstream press."
The elevator doors hissed shut, leaving me completely alone with the cartel enforcer and a corrupt agent.
I pressed my back against the freezing cold concrete wall.
My breathing came in short, jagged, terrified gasps.
Suddenly, a blinding spike of pain ripped aggressively through my lower back.
It wrapped around my stomach like a suffocating iron vice.
I doubled over, crying out loudly in sheer, unfiltered agony.
My knees instantly gave out, and I hit the hard floor heavily.
A puddle of clear, warm fluid began to pool rapidly around my legs.
My water had just broken in the middle of a cartel execution room.
"She's going into early labor," Mercer stated, taking a cautious step backward.
Marcos scowled deeply and slightly lowered his hunting knife.
"The boss wants her severely punished, not a messy birth on my expensive shoes," the enforcer grunted.
Another violent contraction hit me, significantly stronger than the last.
I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted metallic copper.
"Take me to a hospital immediately," I gasped through the blinding pain.
"If I die down here, Julian gets all the money and takes none of the blame!"
I desperately needed them to hesitate.
I needed to buy just a few more precious minutes of time for my baby.
Marcos exchanged a long, uncertain look with Agent Mercer.
"Julian doesn't control the syndicate's money," I lied smoothly through my clenched teeth.
"I know exactly where the missing offshore ledger is, and I'll only tell your boss if my child lives."
Marcos roughly grabbed me by the torn collar of my maternity dress.
He dragged me forcefully toward a secondary, hidden exit tunnel.
They threw me recklessly into the back of an unmarked, heavily tinted SUV.
The agonizing, bumpy drive to the private medical clinic felt like a lifetime of torture.
When they wheeled me into a secluded emergency room, private nurses immediately swarmed around me.
They quickly strapped me to a fetal heart monitor.
The rapid, rhythmic beating of my baby's heart filled the small hospital room.
It was the single most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
Then, the heavy wooden clinic doors swung violently open.
Julian walked in with a triumphant smirk, tightly holding hands with Chloe.
He handed a legally binding piece of paper to the terrified lead surgeon.
"I have total medical proxy over my wife's care," Julian announced calmly.
"I am authorizing an immediate emergency c-section, but you are absolutely not to use any anesthesia."
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Chloe smiled down at my helpless, strapped body.
"It's finally time to meet my new baby, Jules," she whispered maliciously.
