Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
It gutted me.
Up until last night, that was the last time we spoke.
“Hold up,” I murmur when my phone commences ringing. Only two people have my number. My sister and Ghost, and both only call in an emergency.
The screen displays it is Ghost.
“What’s up?” I ask after squashing the phone to my ear.
“I need a doctor. Someone discreet.”
I rack my brain for a second before replying, “For you or Kate?” We have a lot of discreet doctors. We’re the fucking bratva. What else did you expect?
I’m blown completely off the mark when Ghost replies, “Sofia.” She is his baby sister, who is as much a pain in his ass as Polina is mine. “We can’t control the bleeding. She’s clammy and shit like Katie was but a cool bath isn’t helping.”
“Have you called Dr. Marc?” He is the only gynecologist we trust, and it is an extremely thin band circling him. If he hadn’t agreed to keep Katie’s false pregnancy under wraps, he would have been let go months ago.
By let go, I mean killed.
“Can’t. Kirill has men on him. He’s suspicious as fuck.” A painful groan doubles the speed of his voice. “I need someone, Alek. She isn’t good.”
“I’ll get someone.”
Confident I won’t let him down, Ghost disconnects our call.
“Where do you need me to take you?” Yev asks, aware of the urgency of Ghost’s request but clueless as to why we can’t use the correct channels. Sofia hasn’t left the compound in years, and when she does, she is flanked by Kirill’s top men. He’s so over-the-top with precautions, you’d never think he has married another dozen women since his wedding with Sofia six years ago.
As I peer back at Ana’s building in the side mirror of Yev’s sports car, I say, “Stay with Ana. I’ll find my own way back to the compound.”
He breathes out, “All right,” as I toss open his door and commandeer a sleek black SUV coming from the opposite direction. I don’t do it the lawful way. I draw my gun on the driver until he either pulls over voluntarily or with a bullet between his brows, then drag him out by the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Keep me updated on Ana,” I demand to Yev when I do a one-eighty around him before leaving him in a rubber dust cloud.
Thirty minutes later, I skid to a stop at the front of the compound.
“He wants to scan your ID,” I say to the balding fat guy in my passenger seat.
“Oh. Um…” He ruffles through the bag I forced him to pack by gunpoint to produce his hospital ID. I bet he wishes he wasn’t so eager for a smoke break this morning. “Will this do?”
The guard snatches the identification card from his grasp then slants his head to look at me. “Who is he here for?”
I want to fucking gut him for his tone, but instead, I smash my back molars together and then pretend I am the prick Ana believes I am. “I knocked up one of the whores. I ain’t paying for a kid I don’t want for the next eighteen years.”
The guard gives me an understanding look before gesturing for the three gunned-up goons in front of us to move.
“Oh dear,” the doctor murmurs when I steer him into Sofia’s wing. The grandeur would have you convinced she is a princess, not a captive enslaved to a monster.
As I take a step back, my eyes shoot down to my feet. Blood isn’t the only thing soaking into Sofia’s mattress. An undeveloped fetus is as well.
“He’s dead,” Ghost announces to the doctor when he veers for the baby first. “And so the fuck will you be if you don’t help her.” Ghost’s fuse is shorter than a match head, but it is even scarcer when it comes to his sister. The only person who’s been able to force their way into his protective bubble of late is Katie, but to save her, he has to let go of the shield he’s been umbrellaing Sofia and her daughter, Lera, under the past four years.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask Ghost while the doctor conducts a range of tests on a scarcely alert Sofia.
“I don’t know.” He sounds genuinely lost. “She had that miscarriage a couple of months back.” By miscarriage, he means forced abortion. “He would have made sure everything was removed.”
As my eyes stray to the baby too tiny to live outside of its mother’s womb, I murmur, “Clearly something was missed.”
Ghost doesn’t reply. He is too busy struggling not to yank out one of his pistols and pop a bullet into the doctor’s head when he announces he can’t stop the bleeding. “It can’t be controlled by normal methods. Her uterus isn’t contracting properly after birth. If we don’t respond quickly, she will bleed out.”