Chapter 26 - Zara
The forest floor crackles beneath my feet as I run, branches whipping my face and snagging my clothes. My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. How could Carl do this to me? My own cousin, selling me out to those monsters.
I never should have trusted the likes of them again, I think to myself between ragged breaths. Family means nothing.
Tears blur my vision as I stumble through the underbrush. I wish I had my fucking car. But I must have dropped the keys from my bag while grabbing the pepper spray to escape.
It all happened so fast. The moment I saw my kidnapper, I knew Carl sold me out. I tried to inch away, but they grabbed me. There was a gun to my head while they debated when to take me, and an hour passed with them watching. Then the kidnapper got a call, and I asked Carl why. Carl, despite wanting to be a criminal, clearly wasn’t very good at it and put down the gun to tell me the million ways I fucked up.
His face was contorted with rage, and he rambled on and on about how I left his family out and dry. The entitlement steeped deep through his bones, and I was so thoroughly disgusted, trying to work out what made someone this self-obsessed. But, in the midst of all his pacing, I found myself able to pull out the pepper spray.
Carl had screamed, blinded as he was. I hid behind the door and when it swung open, took the kidnapper by surprise. And I ran so damn fast, never looking back. Only when outside did I realize that my car would be no fucking help without the keys. And there’s no chance I could risk going back in there.
And now, I find myself alone, running in the woods along the road, trying to find the opening leading to the back of Abram’s safe house. That same place I never wished to lay eyes on again, where I saw Abram last torturing a man, is now proving to be my redemption.
The forest floor is a blur of decaying leaves and gnarled roots threatening to trip me with each frantic step. My lungs burn and my feet hurt, but I run.
It’s not my life I fear for; it’s my baby’s. Fighting for our survival has me on edge. I’m aware of every movement, every sound, every threat.
Suddenly, I hear voices and heavy footsteps approaching. My blood runs cold.
"She went this way!" a gruff male voice calls out.
I dive behind the broad trunk of an ancient oak, pressing my back against the rough bark. My chest heaves as I struggle to quiet my breathing.
Through the leaves, I catch glimpses of several large men in dark clothing crashing through the forest. They pause, not far from my hiding spot.
"Are you sure?" one asks. "I don't see any tracks."
"The boss said she ran off-road. She’s gotta be around here somewhere."
My fingers dig into the tree bark out of fear of being discovered.
"Let's keep moving," the first man growls. "That little bitch can't have gotten far."
I squeeze my eyes shut as they thunder past, praying they don't spot me. When their voices fade into the distance, I cautiously peer around the tree. The path ahead is clear.
Taking a deep breath, I sprint forward again. I have to reach Abram's safe house as quickly as I can. But what happens when I do?
Thinking fast, I fumble through my pockets and purse, looking for my phone. If I can call Abram now, he could reach in time to get me before these men discover the safehouse on my track.
My fingers fumble through my bag as I run, searching desperately. "No, no, no," I mutter, panic rising. "Where is it?"
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut—my keys. I'd dropped them back at the warehouse when I grabbed the pepper spray. And my phone…
"Damn it!" I hiss, patting myself down frantically. It's gone, too. Must have slipped out during my mad dash through the forest.
"Shit," I hiss, my feet pounding against the uneven forest floor. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
I slow to a jog, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. The weight of my situation crashes over me. No keys. No phone. No way to contact Abram.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. There's no one coming to save me. No knight in shining armor, no cavalry charging to my rescue. It's just me, my wits, and my will to survive.
And I have to survive because if I don’t, my baby doesn’t stand a chance.
"Think, Zara, think," I whisper to myself, pushing sweaty strands of hair from my face. "You can do this. You have to."
The way I see it, I only have one choice. I have to save myself. Right now, Abram has no idea where I am or what I’ve been through. All I can do is reach the safehouse and use the deadline—find a quiet spot to hide out for an hour till he gets to me.
"Come on, Zara," I mutter to myself. "You can do this. Just a little further."
My legs burn with exertion, and all I want to do is sit. My hand unconsciously drifts to my stomach, where our child grows. The thought gives me a renewed burst of energy, propelling me forward through the darkness. Sweat trickles down my back despite the cool air. In my mind, I see Abram's strong, tattooed arms, his penetrating gaze that makes me feel so safe.
If I can just get to him, everything will be okay. He'll protect me. He has to.
***
I run along the forest, along the road, and notice the road coming to an end. I stop. "Abram's hideout," I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible. "It has to be close."
But a chilling thought creeps into my mind. What if they're already there, waiting for me? My throat constricts, fear threatening to overwhelm me.
"No," I growl, clenching my fists. "I can't think like that. It's my only chance."
A twig snaps beneath my feet, and I freeze. My heart hammers against my ribs as I strain my ears, listening for any sign of pursuit. The forest is eerily quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
It’s safe for me to approach the road since I hear no vehicles nearby. I crouch down on the dirt and slowly inch my way up to the street, my eyes peeping out from the lower-level ground.
My heart leaps as I finally spot the outline of Abram's hideout through the trees—that strange warehouse-looking thing in the middle of nowhere. Relief floods through me and I decide my best bet is to make a dash for it. Go too slow, and I could be noticed.
Go fast? I could still be found, but I have a chance to lock myself inside and find a safe hiding spot. One phone call to Abram, and he might even give me a lifeline until he arrives to get me. Weapons, perhaps?
I stand and run toward the hideout, my breath coming in short, frantic gasps. As I draw closer, the warehouse looms like a foreboding giant in the darkness, its shadow stretching across the forest floor. The sense of dread coils in my stomach as I near the entrance. What if the men chasing me are already inside, lying in wait?
For a moment, I hesitate, torn between seeking refuge within Abram's walls and the fear of falling into a trap. But time is running out, and I know I can't outrun them forever. With a final burst of determination, I sprint toward the entrance, praying for a stroke of luck.
As I approach the towering doors, they swing open with a groan, and my stomach plummets.
Three burly men exit, their eyes locking onto me with predatory intensity.
"There she is!" one of them sneers, his voice triumphant.
I skid to a halt, my mind reeling. This can't be happening. How did they find this place? Where's Abram?
I turn around, prepared to run, only to see two men leering at me.
"Nowhere to run now, Sweetheart," another man sneers from my right, advancing toward me with a wicked grin.
I back away, my eyes darting frantically for an escape route. "Stay away from me," I warn, my voice trembling despite my attempt at bravery.
The first man lunges, his meaty hand reaching for my arm. I duck, narrowly avoiding his grasp. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything else.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," the third man growls, circling around to cut off my retreat.
I inch backward, my shoulders hunched, ready to bolt at the slightest opening. "Please," I whimper, hating how weak I sound. "Just let me go."
My back hits rough bark—I've backed into a tree. Panic claws at my throat as they close in, predatory grins gleaming in the moonlight.
Suddenly, a sharp crack splits the air. One of the men stumbles, a red stain blossoming on his shirt. More shots ring out in rapid succession.
"What the—" one of them shouts, spinning wildly.
Chaos erupts as bullets whiz past, kicking up dirt and splintering wood. The men scatter, cursing and yelling in confusion.
I drop to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. My mind races, trying to make sense of what's happening. Who's shooting? Is it Abram? Or have I just traded one danger for another?
As gunfire continues to echo through the trees, I curl into myself, praying that whatever comes next, my baby and I will somehow survive this night.
A familiar voice cuts through the chaos, sending a surge of relief through my body. "Vladimir, flank left! Denis, take the rear!"
Abram. He's here.
I peek up from my huddled position on the ground, my eyes widening as I take in the scene unfolding before me. Abram's team emerges from the shadows like wraiths, their movements synchronized and deadly.
I press myself flat against the earth, my fingers digging into the soil. The sound of gunfire intensifies, punctuated by shouts and grunts of pain. I can't help but flinch at each crack of a weapon, my heart racing so fast I fear it might burst from my chest.
"Abram, we've got two trying to flank us!" Mark's voice rings out, tense but controlled.
Abram's response is immediate. "I see them. Cover me!"
I risk another glance, my breath catching as I watch Abram move. He's like a force of nature, his movements fluid and precise. He weaves through the chaos, dodging bullets with an almost preternatural grace. He reaches one of the men, delivers a reverse kick to disarm him, jumps down back to grab the gun, and shoots the other dead.
I cover my mouth, unable to hold back the scream, when I see the first man coming for him, waving a gun.
“Abram, behind you!” I scream, tears falling down my face, thinking this is it. A sharp pain of agony goes through my body, thinking that this could be the moment I watch my fiancé die.
Abram’s eyes search for mine just briefly, and when he sees me safe. He smiles. And then, in a fraction of a second, he turns, holding up the body of the man he just shot dead. Being too late, his opponent strikes the blade through his friend, and Abram shoots him dead on the spot.
"Zara," he calls out between bursts of gunfire, screaming at me through the distance, "are you hurt?"
All I can manage is a shaky, "I-I'm okay."
He nods and enters the fight again.
The air is thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and metallic blood. Men cry out in pain, bodies thud to the ground, and through it all, I worry every time that someone got Abram.
I close my eyes, not able to witness the massacre, yet open them when I hear a body fall. I pray, each time, not Abram. Please, not Abram.
And when I see him safe, I close my eyes again.
A slow, creeping anxiety becomes a heart-wrenching pain, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Abram!” I hear Denis scream—so harrowingly that I think this is the moment he’s done for.
I look around, desperate, unable to find him in the chaos. There are so many feet storming up the dust, so many gunshots. It sounds like the beginning and the end of something.
Just as the gunfire begins to die down, in a strange silence like the calm before the storm, a sharp pain suddenly lances through my abdomen, doubling me over. My heart races as I feel a warm trickle between my thighs. No, no, no. This can't be happening.
"Abram!" I cry out as loudly as I can, my voice near echoing and breaking with panic, not knowing where he is. "Something's wrong!"
The next thing I know, he’s sprinting toward me. I sigh with relief. At least he’s alive. Even from this distance, I see the moment fear flashes across his face.
"Vladimir, cover me!" Abram barks.
Another cramp hits, and my hands instinctively cradle my stomach. The world around me blurs, gunshots fading into a dull roar as terror grips me.
"Zara, baby, look at me," Abram's voice cuts through the haze. He's kneeling beside me now, one hand on my cheek, the other hovering protectively over my abdomen. "What's happening?"
"I-I'm bleeding," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. "The baby…"
His jaw clenches, a storm of emotions warring in his eyes. "We're getting you out of here. Now."
As Abram scoops me into his arms, I catch a glimpse of red staining my jeans. The sight makes me dizzy with fear and grief. "Please," I whimper, burying my face in his chest, "don't let me lose our baby."
"Never," he growls, his arms tightening around me as he carries me to safety. "I won't let anything happen to either of you. I swear it."
The world spins as Abram carries me to the car, his men shielding his back, his heartbeat a frantic rhythm against my ear. My vision blurs, edges darkening. I want to tell him I'm scared, that I need him, but my tongue feels heavy, uncooperative.
"Stay with me, Zara," Abram's voice sounds distant, urgent. "We're almost there."
I try to focus on his face, on the fierce determination etched into every line. But the pain intensifies, stealing my breath. My fingers clutch weakly at his shirt.
"Abram," I manage to gasp, "I can't…"
His pace quickens. "Yes, you can. You're stronger than this."
A wave of dizziness washes over me. The last thing I see is Abram's panicked expression as my body goes limp in his arms. Then, darkness swallows me whole.
"Zara! Zara, wake up!"
But I can't. I'm falling, falling into an abyss of fear and uncertainty, Abram's desperate pleas fading into silence.