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When I do, he’s standing above me.

“P-please,” I sob, clutching my stomach. I can hardly make out the shape of him, my vision blurred by the tears.

But I still see him crouch above me, brandishing the knife. “Is this what it’s like?” His voice is quiet and winded, and when he ducks down to smell me, I shrink away. “Seconds from death, and you’re begging. For what? Your life? Your baby’s?”

Choking on a sob, I turn away, eyes clenched shut. “Yes.”

I feel the blade on my chest, just below my throat, dragging downward, and then the hiss of his breath, hot against my cheek. “Fuck, you’d be so pretty, all opened up. Spilling out. That’s why I took this job, you know? Because you’re so ripe, Verity Sinclaire. A creator, like me.” His words are rough with desire. “I just want to pop you like a fucking balloon.”

I whimper, the tears coming in hot streams.

There’s a long, torturous sigh, and then the heat of him is gone. “Too bad I can’t take you back with me,” he rumbles, sounding frustrated, “tie you up and watch you squirm, see just how much pain you can take. But that’s not why I’m here.” When I peek out from behind fluttering eyelashes, he’s touching himself. Bile rises in my throat as I watch him, one gloved hand grasping the bulge between his legs. “I’m here to show you that creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin.” He releases himself, and my eyes follow as he spins the knife around his forefinger. He saunters backward—just as the sounds of commotion begin coming from the direction of the solarium. “Do you really want to keep flipping it?”

In a blink, he’s gone, nothing but the dark sky hanging overhead.

Clutching my stomach, I roll to my side, trying to gain the strength to push to my feet. It’s useless though, pain lancing through me with each attempt.

“Verity!” Pace’s voice sounds distant, far past the roar of my pulse in my ears, but then suddenly, it’s terrifyingly close. “She’s here!”

I feel him before I see him, hands wedging beneath my shoulders.

“What were you thinking?” he rants, voice tight. “You were seriously running away from—” My sharp cry makes him freeze, his face finally coming into focus. He’s raking his hair back, watching me with a shocked expression, and then he’s shouting, “Lex! Get over here!”

“H-he was in the woods,” I say, pushing the words through a wet sob. “He was… he was waiting for me.”

Pace spins. “Lex!”

But suddenly Lex is here, shoving him aside to kneel over me. “Verity?” His face is stone, even though the panic in his eyes is obvious when he sees the way I’m clutching my belly. “Hey, look at me. I need you to tell me what happened. Did you fall?”

“Tripped.” With a jagged inhale, I point to the tree line. “He ran when he heard you.”

Immediately, Pace is shooting to his feet, pulling a gun from the small of his back.

“No,” Lex barks, yanking him back by the shirt. “I need you to stay here and cover us!” Lex begins shrugging out of his button-down shirt, draping it around me. The instant I move, my midsection contracts, a cramp shooting across my belly.

“Ahh!” I grab my stomach with both hands.

Heavy footsteps follow, and Wicker appears over us, eyes wild. “What’s happening?” His gaze darts to mine. “Red?”

“Go get the car,” Lex rushes out, throwing his brother the keys. “Drive straight through the garden—hurry.” When Wick runs off, Lex turns back to me, resting his hand over mine. “It’s going to be okay. I need you to take a deep breath.” He’s pushing up the hem of my dress when another cramp spears downward.

I shove my hands between my legs, crying out at the sudden clench, and when I pull them back, my eyes dart to Lex’s.

My fingers are slick and warm, red with blood.

“Lex…” I hear my voice, but blood rushes through my ears. I see his mouth move, and Pace’s terrified expression. There’s only one thing I want, and when I grab Lex’s wrist, my fingers sliding against his skin, I make sure he’s listening. “Promise me…” Darkness seeps into the edges of my vision, but I whisper through the pain, “Promise me that you’ll save the baby.”

28

Pace

“Just hold on,”I repeat the words over and over into her hair, Verity’s limp body clutched against my chest in the back seat. Lex is shoved up against the passenger side, staring blankly between her legs. That’s at least half of my panic; the total loss of any expression from him. He’s wooden and efficiently mechanical.

When he drags the back of his wrist across his forehead, it leaves a smear of blood.

To Wicker, I snap, “Drive faster!”

“I fucking am!” he snaps back, eyes flicking to our reflection in the rearview.