Page 101 of Bride of Vengeance

The feed continues for what feels like hours but is probably a few minutes. Then Pavel pulls out a gun, puts it to Mikhail's head. I can see them talking again, but I still can't make up the words.

The gunshot is deafening even through the tablet's speakers. Mikhail's body goes limp, blood spreading across the concrete floor.

"No!" The scream tears from my throat. "NO!"

Harrison closes the tablet. "And that's it. One down, one more to go.. You're alone now."

I can't breathe. Can't think. Mikhail is dead. I just watched him die. The father of my child, the man who saved me, who loved me for exactly who I am—gone.

The grief is instantaneous and overwhelming. My chest feels like it's caving in. This can't be real. He can't be dead.

Guilt quickly begins to creep up my body and take over, making me tremble.

"I can’t raise our baby without him," I whisper.

"Oh, you're not raising the baby at all."

I look up through my tears. "What?"

"You think I'd let Ghost's spawn live freely? No, no. You'll carry to term—under close supervision—then the baby becomes mine. Leverage for future operations."

"You're insane—"

"I'm practical. A child with Ghost's genetics and FBI training? That's a weapon worth developing."

The stress, the grief, the horror of his words—suddenly, pain rips through my abdomen. Sharp, twisting, wrong.

"No," I gasp, doubling over as much as the restraints allow. "Something's wrong—"

Wetness between my legs. Blood, I realize with terror. I'm bleeding.

"The baby—please, I need a doctor!"

Harrison watches dispassionately. "Miscarriage? How unfortunate. Though perhaps for the best—"

"Please!" The pain is getting worse, cramping that makes me see stars. "Please, I'll do anything—"

He sighs. "Fine. Guards, take her to medical. Can't have her dying before she tells us everything about the Morozov operations and signs a few things for good measure."

They cut my restraints and half-carry me to what looks like a makeshift medical facility.

An older man, clearly a doctor under duress, examines me with shaking hands.

"Stress-induced cramping," he says quietly. "No miscarriage yet, but if this continues..."

"Save the baby," I beg. "Please."

He gives me something for the pain, and attaches monitors. The cramping eases slightly, but the fear remains. I could lose Mikhail's baby. The last piece of him.

"She'll live?" Harrison asks from the doorway.

"Both will, if she remains calm and rested."

"Good. Sedate her."

"Sir, that's not advisable—"

"Do it."