38
Seven minutes apart
I brace against the chair as another wave hits, tearing through me. This is happening. I can’t do this here. They need to get me to a hospital. I need Harrison.
Rough hands grab my arms, hauling me up. “Don’t touch me!” I pull back, squirming. “Please, I need a hospital. I need help, please—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Snake Eyes snaps, shoving me toward the door. Tattoo Face leans in close, his breath rancid against my cheek.
“Maybe we need to show Harrison what happens when you don’t pay your debts,” he sneers.
Another contraction barrels through me, making me stumble. Pain flares, and my head goes light, the room spinning. “Please. Please, don’t do this…”
Snake Eyes smirks, gripping my arm tighter. “Don’t worry. Once you’re tied up in the truck, we’ll send him a nice message. Then we’ll see where he pulls the money from.”
A shout rips through the air. Then—chaos. Gunshots. Blinding lights. A rough shove sends me crashing to the cold, unforgiving floor. The impact rattles through me, but it’s the sharp, searing pain in my lower belly that steals my breath. Contractions, vicious and unrelenting, grip me like a vice, each one twisting deeper, cutting me off from everything except the raw ache.
I twist, wrists bound tight behind my back, the ache in them a dull throb beneath the sharper pain ripping through my stomach. My vision blurs, spinning wildly.
Just. Keep. Moving. At least I’m trying to.
But I can’t. Not like this. The bindings dig deeper, cutting off what little strength I have left. I roll again, gasping for breath. And then I hear it—familiar voices. Bradley’s, sharp and commanding. Then—hands. Strong, steady, warm. They grab my wrists, cutting me free, and instinct takes over. My arms fling around him, gripping tight. So tight. Like if I let go, I’ll lose everything.
Hands I’d know anywhere.
“Harrison...” My eyes blink hard against the blur, but I see him. His face hovers above mine and blood streaks across his skin, and my chest tightens at the sight. “Oh God. Your face… Blood.”
“It’s not mine, baby. I’m fine.” Panic claws its way up my throat. I try to turn, to see where we are, but he grips my chin.
“Eyes on me, Immy. Look at me,” he commands. My gaze snaps back to his. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, gasping for breath. “I’m... okay. The baby.” The words barely make it out as a sharp, brutal pain tears through me.
“You’re bleeding, sugar. Your lip. You’re not fucking okay,” he growls, his eyes blazing with rage. Another contraction hits, white-hot and unrelenting.
“Oh God,” I sob, clutching his arm. “The baby… it’s coming. It hurts. Fuck, it h-hurts.” My voice cracks, choking on the pain.
His eyes widen. “Shit. Oh, shit! She’s in labor!” His voice pitches higher. “I need a car! She’s in labour.” Someone shouts back, but the words blur into noise. All I can do is cling to him, trembling, every contraction tearing me apart.
“Get her in my car. I’ll drive.” Bradley’s voice.
Harrison lifts me, and everything tilts. My vision sways, blurring into shadows and flashing lights. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse—Snake Eyes and Tattoo Face, cuffed and bloodied on the ground. It’s distant, like watching through fog, and the dizziness pulls me deeper. All I feel is the steady, unyielding warmth of Harrison’s grip.
He’s here. I’m safe.
The world flashes past—a storm of sirens, blue and red lights slicing through the dark. I can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the shallow rise and fall of my breath.
“In and out, sugar,” Harrison murmurs. “Breathe with me. It’s okay, you’re safe. Our baby’s safe. I’ve got you, Immy. I love you.” I lean into him, letting his words wrap around me, grounding me. His scent fills my lungs, and I cling to it. To him.
The next thing I know, cool air hits my skin. I’m cradled against his chest as he bursts through the hospital doors. His voice thunders, but it feels far away. “I need a nurse. Now!”
Everything is noise, motion, but I just press my face into Harrison’s neck, my breath shaky and shallow. “Stay with me, sugar,” he whispers, brushing his lips against my temple. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
All I can do is nod, leaning into the only thing that feels real—him. Bradley’s steady voice slices through the haze. “Make sure her vitals are stable—and check the bruising on her face.”
“Bruising?” I choke, looking at Harrison. “What bruising?”
He brushes my hair back gently. “It’s nothing, baby. Just a small scratch. You’re okay. I promise.”
Two nurses step closer, one a young woman with a smile. “Hi, Imogen. I’m Tayla, your midwife tonight,” she says softly. “And this is Eileen.” The older woman offers a gentle nod, reaching for my hand.
They guide me carefully as I slip out of my clothes, switching me into a thin hospital gown. Tayla wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm, the soft beeping of the monitor filling the air. Each sound feels like an anchor, pulling me back from the edge. Eileen’s hand moves to my cheek, but as soon as her fingers graze my skin, a sharp, searing pain shoots through me.
“Fuck!” The curse escapes and my eyes flood with tears.
“Sorry, love.” She’s already reaching for an ice pack. “Let’s get that swelling down, okay?”
Tayla finishes setting up, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Alright, Imogen. I’d like to do a quick exam to check your cervix, if that’s okay with you.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good,” she says gently lifting my gown. “Just breathe, darl. It won’t take long.” I grit my teeth, bracing myself as she carefully checks. After a moment, she slips the gown back down and looks up. “You’re about five centimetres along—halfway there.”
Bradley ducks back into the room, turning to Harrison. “I’ll be outside, checking on the others.” He pauses, eyes softening as he looks at me. “You want me to call anyone?”
“My dad.” My voice is shaky. “Please... tell him I need him here.” Bradley gives a firm nod and disappears through the door.
Harrison stays close to me, brushing soft circles against my hand. “We’ve got this, sugar. Just breathe. I’m right here. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he repeats it over and over, his eyes full of raw guilt. “Immy, I’m so fucking sorry.”
Tears well in my eyes, “I was so scared, Harrison. I tried to be strong… I thought they were gonna take me.” My breath catches, the fear still holding me tight. “I thought—”
“They wouldn’t have gotten far. If Isla hadn’t been there—” He pauses, his voice cracking. “Fuck, I can’t even imagine.”
“Isla… Is she okay?”
“With Xavier, love,” he assures me. “She’s fine. She called the police. She called us.” His words hit me hard. She saved my life. She really did. Grateful isn’t the right word to describe what I’m feeling right now. I can practically feel Harrison’s relief.
The door opens again, and the midwives are back. But before I can react, another contraction grips me, ripping through my body. I double over, breath ragged. They guide me, coaching me to breathe, to focus on short bursts of air. Harrison’s brow tightens as he watches me, gripping my hand like it’s his lifeline.
“What can I do?” There is desperation in his voice.
“Help her breathe through it,” Tayla says. “Keep her focused—let her squeeze your hand if she needs to.”
Eileen adjusts the monitor around my stomach. “We’re timing each contraction and tracking the baby’s heart rate,” she explains. “Mum’s been through a lot of stress, so we need to keep a close eye on the baby.”
“Just going to get some fluids in,” Tayla says calmly. A sharp prick in my arm, and then—agony. Another contraction hits, fiercer than the last, tearing a raw, guttural cry from my throat.
“Can’t you give her something for the pain?” Harrison asks.
“Yes, we can start the epidural, if that’s what you’d like.”
“Hell no,” I snap through gritted teeth. “I’m not having a huge ass needle in my back!”
“Okay, okay,” Harrison says. “Anything else you can give her?”
“We can try the gas.” Eileen holds up a mouthpiece. “This is nitrous oxide—it’ll take the edge off. When you feel a contraction starting, put this in your mouth, bite down gently, and breathe in slowly and deeply. It works best if you time it right, so start as soon as you feel the tightening.”
“Do you want to give it a go?” Harrison asks, gently swiping loose strands of my hair back from my face. I grit my teeth, nodding as I take the mouthpiece from her, ready to try anything to manage the discomfort.