Chapter 40 #2
It’s wrong of me to be doing this while pregnant.
Red and I have had to stifle Anna more and more as the summer’s gone on.
She about shits herself anytime we agree to go on another one of these dangerous missions.
We should let Domhnall send in someone else, she keeps arguing.
But who? Who else would we trust? One of Isaak’s men? Some other Navy SEAL?
Yeah, nope. Sorry, but our unique bit of crazy gives us not only the skills but the motivation to see this all the way through without wimping out.
Even if I feel myself slipping off the rails and becoming more animal than human some days. I should be afraid that it feels good to give control over to Red. I should worry about whether or not I’ll really be any sort of whole person at the end of this—
But just then, the first guard appears around a bend, and I feel the familiar shift as Red takes control.
RED
My body moves with lethal precision despite its altered center of gravity, the knife sliding between his ribs before the man can even register my presence. I lower his body carefully, making no sound.
The second guard is harder. I toss my night vision goggles behind my back right as I see him manage to light a candle. His eyes widen in surprise and he reaches for a weapon when he sees me coming.
I hold my hands up, well, one hand up, pressing the other to my large belly, and cry, as if in distress, “Pomogite! Svet!” Help! The lights!
He lets out a barrage of Russian at me, waving his gun as I continue waddling toward him, wailing. It’s too late before he realizes the overexaggerated waddle is an act. My garrote is already around his throat.
Four more bodies litter the tunnel before I reach the main facility. Each kill is clean and efficient. These men chose their side when they decided to traffic innocent girls. And when they chose to threaten my family.
The central chamber opens up before me—a converted cave system lined with modern amenities.
Kozlov sits behind a massive desk, flanked by six armed men.
He’s older than his photos suggested, with silver hair and cold eyes that have seen too much death to be surprised by me.
Two half-dressed girls are chained to the wall nearby, but I don’t let my eyes linger.
It’s enough to know that Mads’s guess was correct.
There are innocents here amongst the guilty.
“Ah,” he says in accented English, “a pregnant assassin. You know, I was expecting someone more... intimidating.”
I step into the light, hands raised in apparent surrender. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, you haven’t. Not yet.” His smile is reptilian. “Do you know how much your head is worth? How many people want you dead?”
“Probably about as many as want you dead.” I take another step forward. “Funny how that works.”
The men shift nervously, unsure how to handle a heavily pregnant woman who speaks like she’s in control. That hesitation will cost them.
“You killed Pavel,” Kozlov continues conversationally. “Messy business, that. He was useful.”
“He was a rabid dog. I put him down.”
“And now you think you can do the same to me?” Kozlov laughs, a sound like broken glass. “You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and—forgive me”—his eyes skirt down my body—“hardly in fighting condition.”
That’s when gunfire erupts from the tunnel behind me, and I enjoy the shocked expression on Kozlov’s face for a brief millisecond before I dive for cover.
It’s Ian McKenzie appearing from the same tunnel I did, his rifle cutting down two of Kozlov’s men before they can react.
The rope ties I used on him were good quality, but it doesn’t matter the quality when you tie the knots loose enough for any Navy SEAL worth his salt to get free from, especially one with a sister to avenge.
I never intended to come to this mountain for a face-to-face like this. I spent the afternoon placing charges across the mountain. One press of a button and boom—an avalanche would have buried this entire resort.
But running across Ian out there made Mads wonder if he’d come this far, then maybe his sister wasn’t dead after all. Maybe she was here, inside, and—
“Chloe, get down!” Ian shouts as the chamber explodes into chaos.
I drop behind the desk as bullets fly, coldly calculating the action playing out in front of me. Ian’s covering fire gives me the opening I need.
I move like water, flowing around obstacles and using my apparent vulnerability as a weapon. The first man I reach tries to grab me gently, probably thinking about my large belly. Oversensitive fool. His compassion gets him a knife in the kidney.
The second learns from his colleague’s mistake and lifts his gun to kill me. But pregnant doesn’t mean slow, and I’m inside his guard before he can fire, his own weapon turning against him.
Ian and I work in deadly synchronization, two predators with a common goal. One of the girls at the wall lets out terrified, ear-splitting screams as we work, but neither of us is distracted. Ian’s military precision complements my lethal artistry, and within minutes, only Kozlov remains.
He’s wounded, bleeding from a shot to the chest, but still alive when I walk over to him. His eyes hold no fear, only calculating malice.
“You think this ends anything?” He coughs, blood speckling his lips. “My son will chase you to the ends of the Earth.”
I frown. All my research indicated Kozlov had no children. No family at all. No one to inherit his empire of misery.
“Your son’s already dead,” I lie smoothly. “Along with everyone else in your organization.”
But his smile widens. “You know nothing, bitch. Nothing about what’s coming.”
Ian puts another bullet in his head before he can say more.
I stand in the silence that follows, surrounded by bodies and the smell of cordite.
Ian rushes to the wall. “Chloe!” He yanks at the shackles before hurrying to one of the men and pulling a set of keys off his hips, then returning to the girls.
The blonde one, Chloe, falls into his arms, eyes lost and dazed. It’s the other one doing all the screaming.
My heart pounds, the parasite kicking frantically as if responding to the violence. Dammit, whenever it does that, I can never stay in control for long. Anna’s maternal instinct kicks in, and I’m pushed out.
“Thank you,” Ian says, putting his arm around his sister. “For Chloe.”
I nod, understanding. Some debts can only be paid in blood.
But as we prepare to leave, Kozlov’s words echo in my mind. My son will chase you to the ends of the earth.
What son? And what didn’t I know about what was coming?
Anna moves to place a protective hand over our belly, where the child grows. Domhnall’s child, innocent of the sins of its parents.
Right then, pain tears across my stomach, and suddenly, as if losing control of my bladder, water drenches through my ski pants to the floor below in a gush.
“Well,” I sigh, right as I feel the dizziness that means I’m about to lose control of the helm. “Shit.”
ANNA
The pain hits like lightning, splitting me in half, and suddenly I’m back—Anna, not Red—gasping as warm fluid soaks through my pants and pools on the concrete floor.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Ian stammers, still supporting his dazed sister. “This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now.” His face has gone pale beneath the grime and blood. “Do you have a hospital bag? A birth plan? Should I call someone?”
“Ian,” I manage through gritted teeth as another contraction builds. “We need to get out of here. Births for first-time mothers take forever—days—if the contractions have just started, we have plenty of time to get somewhere safe, somewhere clean—”
“Move!” Chloe suddenly barks, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. She pushes away from Ian with surprising strength, her earlier dazed expression replaced by razor-sharp focus. “You!” She points at her brother. “Find clean fabric—sheets, towels, anything. Now!”
Ian blinks stupidly. “But I thought you were—”
“I’m a trauma nurse, you idiot!” Chloe snaps, already moving toward me with steady hands. “Three years in the ER before those bastards took me. Now MOVE!”
Behind her, the other girl remains huddled in the corner, rocking slightly, her eyes vacant and unfocused. Whatever they did to her has left her somewhere else entirely.
Ian stumbles backward, nearly tripping over one of the bodies. “Right, yes, supplies. Clean things. Got it.” He disappears down the corridor, calling back, “How much time do we have?”
Chloe guides me to another room in the compound that’s much cleaner and has a bed. She helps me pull off my snow pants and lay back. Then she kneels beside me, her hands gentle but efficient. “Let me check,” she says quietly. “This might be uncomfortable.”
I nod, breathing hard as she examines me. Her face changes.
“We’re not going anywhere,” she announces grimly. “You’re fully dilated. This baby is coming now.”
“That’s impossible,” I protest. “First babies take hours—”
“Not this one.” Chloe’s voice is calm, professional. “Sometimes trauma can accelerate labor. Your body’s been through hell tonight, and it’s ready to push this baby out.”
This can’t be happening. In my head, I feel Mads stirring, her presence warm and protective. It’s too dangerous here. Too dirty. What if something goes wrong?
We’ll be okay, I tell her, though my own fear threatens to overwhelm me. We have to be.
Ian crashes back into the room, arms full of what looks like torn bedsheets and a first aid kit. “Is this good? I also found some bottled water and—oh God, is that normal?” He’s staring at my face, which must be contorted with pain.
“Ian, focus,” Chloe commands. “We need to—”
Another contraction tears through me, and I scream—a primal sound that echoes off the concrete walls. The pain is beyond anything I’ve ever felt, worse than any bullet wound or knife cut. It consumes everything, leaving no room for thought or fear or planning.
When it passes, I’m panting. “Something’s wrong,” I gasp. “It shouldn’t hurt this much—”
“Pain is normal,” Chloe says firmly, though I catch a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Your body knows what to do. Trust it.”
In my mind, I feel the familiar shift as Mads pushes forward to almost stand with me, her strength bleeding into mine. I’ve got you, she whispers. We’ve survived worse than this.
And suddenly I understand. This isn’t just me giving birth. It’s all of us. Every part of me that’s fought and bled and clawed its way to survive to get us here. Even Red, that cold, calculating presence, hovers at the edges like a guardian.
“Here comes another one,” I warn, and this time, when the pain hits, I don’t fight it. I let it wash over me, through me, carrying me toward something I’ve never imagined possible.
“That’s it!” Chloe encourages. “I can see the head. Dark hair, just like—”
“Don’t tell me who he looks like,” I manage between pants. “Just help him get here safe.”
Ian has gone green around the edges. “Should I—do you need me to—I could boil water? Isn’t that what people do?”
“We’re not in a Western movie,” Chloe says, rolling her eyes despite her focus. “Just hand me whatever I need and try not to pass out.”
The next contraction builds like a tsunami, and I know this is it. “He’s coming,” I announce, my voice steady despite the chaos around us. In my head, Mads is laughing—actually laughing—with pure joy.
Look at us, she marvels. After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through... we’re bringing life into the world.
And I feel it too—that sense of completion, of purpose. All the violence, all the blood on our hands... it led us here, to Domhnall, to this moment. To our son.
“Push!” Chloe commands, and I bear down with everything I have.
The pain is extraordinary, but so is the sensation of my son moving through me, fighting his way into the world with the same determination that’s kept me alive all these years.
“Head’s out!” Chloe’s voice is triumphant. “One more push for the shoulders—”
I push again, and suddenly there’s a release, a rush, and then—
Crying. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“It’s a boy,” Chloe announces, tears streaming down her face as she holds my son. “He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Ian looks like he might faint. “He’s so small,” he says wonderingly. “And loud. Really, really loud.”
“All babies are loud,” Chloe says, laughing through her tears. “It means his lungs are working.”
Chloe cleans my son the best she can with what she has available, then wraps him in the cleanest sheet and places him on my chest. The weight of him is incredible—substantial and real and mine.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I whisper, and he stops crying, his dark blue eyes—Domhnall’s eyes—focusing on my face with startling intensity. “We did it. We made it.”
In my head, something profound shifts. As I look down at this perfect, innocent life we’ve created, Red simply... fades. That cold, inhuman part of me that could kill without feeling dissolves like smoke, unable to exist in the presence of something so pure and new.
But Mads doesn’t fade. Instead, she grows stronger, her love and protectiveness intertwining with mine until we’re not two separate pieces anymore—we’re one mother, fierce and whole, holding our child.
Dammit, he’s amazing. And he’s ours, Mads whispers, and the words resonate through every fiber of my being. Our miracle.
“What will you name him?” Chloe asks softly, wiping her hands on a clean towel.
I look down at my son, this miracle born from violence and chaos, this perfect thing that came from two broken people learning how to love each other.
“Connor,” I say finally. “His name is Connor.”
And as I hold him against my heart, listening to his soft breathing, I know that Red is gone forever—that cold killer dissolved with the warmth of new life.
What remains is stronger than either Anna or Mads ever were alone: a mother who will do anything to protect what’s hers, who has the strength of both my light and my darkness united in love.