Page 26 of Captive Bride

"Can't talk...can you time them?" I managed between gritted teeth. His head dipped in a subtle nod, the blue of his eyes darkened by concern. He pulled out his phone, and I knew he was sliding into that role he played so well—the protector, the fixer. The bedside clock ticked away seconds that stretched into eternities, each minute marked by the tightening grip of another contraction.

"Three minutes apart, Ade," he murmured, the edge of fear sharpening his words. "They're coming faster." The cold reality of those words sent a shiver through me despite the pain's searing heat.

"Okay," I whispered back, clinging to the undercurrent of strength in his voice. "Okay, we can do this." But the question lingered unspoken between us: could we really, when everything was happening too soon and all at once?

The world tilted with the force of my contractions, each one a merciless wave attempting to drag me under. With Tristan's steady presence behind me, I fought through the haze of pain, clinging to his whispered count—three minutes apart.

"Could be Braxton Hicks," I gasped, trying to convince myself more than him. The room spun gently, the soft hum of suburban life from outside our window a cruel reminder of normalcy.

Tristan gave a tight nod, but his eyes betrayed his concern—a blue ocean in turmoil. "Just breathe, Ade," he coaxed, though his voice wavered like a leaf caught in the wind.

But as another contraction clenched my abdomen, white-hot and unyielding, I knew. "Fuck. What if they—what if—" The words tumbled out, steeped in fear. His arms tightened around me, his embrace a shield against the onslaught.

Panic clawed at my throat, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "I can't—I can't do this!" I cried out, the rational part of my mind receding as hysteria threatened to take hold.

"Hey, look at me," Tristan urged, his face swimming into my blurred vision. Concern etched deep lines across his brow, theusually composed features now etched with stark worry. "I've got you."

He reached for his phone with hands that were steady despite the chaos. Punching in 911, he spoke with an urgency that was foreign to his usually calm demeanor. "Okay. Yes, we need an ambulance.”

He rattled off our address, his voice a solid anchor amidst the storm raging within me.

"Contractions, three minutes apart," he said into the phone, then paused to comfort me with a gentle squeeze. "Yes, she's in a lot of pain. No, this is too early. Twins, six weeks early."

My heart hammered, each beat a drum in the silence of the night as I clutched at the bed sheets, drenched in a cold sweat. The pain came in waves, an unyielding tide that left me reeling with its intensity. Through the haze of fear, Tristan's voice was the only thing I could cling to—a lifeline in the chaos.

My heart hammered, each beat a drum in the silence of the night as I clutched at the bed sheets, drenched in a cold sweat. The pain came in waves, an unyielding tide that left me reeling with its intensity. Through the haze of fear, Tristan's voice was the only thing I could cling to—a lifeline in the chaos.

"Her contractions are less than three minutes apart," he relayed to the 911 operator, his words punctuated by my sharp intakes of breath. "They're getting stronger."

"Help is on the way, Ade. Just hold on," he said, turning to me, his eyes a beacon of strength. The love in his voice was a balmto my fraying nerves, even as another contraction seized me, wrenching a gasp from my lips.

"Something—something's not right," I managed to stammer out between clenched teeth, my mind racing with thoughts of our unborn twins. "It's too soon, Tristan, it's too soon!"

"Tell them something is happening!" I heard him say into the phone, urgency sharpening his tone. "She's due in six weeks. I just told you that!” Tristan practically screamed at the operator, his free hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The room seemed to spin, and I fought to keep myself anchored to the moment. Anxiety gnawed at me, its teeth sinking deep as I envisioned every possible outcome. In this quiet Delaware suburb, where danger felt worlds away from Tristan's realm, the threat was now internal, unpredictable, and it shook me to my core.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and edged with the fear that had been mounting inside me. "Tristan, I think—I think I'm having these babies now!"

His arms were around me in an instant, strong and steady, the familiar scent of his skin cutting through the haze of panic. His phone was lost on the bed somewhere.

His voice was calm, but I could feel the tension in his body. "Okay, Ade, just breathe. We're going to get you help."

"Six weeks early," I gasped out, the pain splintering through me. Each contraction was a wave trying to pull me under, and I clung to Tristan as if he were my lifeline. The room spun, the softhum of the Delaware night breaking against the chaos unfurling within me.

"Stay with me, baby." His words were a command, one that I latched onto with all the strength I had left. My mind scrambled for something solid, but found only the swirling torrent of what-ifs. Fear gnawed at me, relentless and hungry, but Tristan's presence was like a beacon in the storm.

The pain started again. I grit my teeth, trying not to scream. The pull of…nothingness…was so fucking appealing.

"Adriana!" Tristan's voice cracked like a whip, snapping me back to the present. "Help is coming, they're on their way."

"Too soon," I repeated, though I knew time held no sway over the urgency of life making its entrance. With each passing second, I felt a tug-of-war between dread and the fierce desire to see our twins safe in our arms. My body was a battleground, and I was both warrior and territory.

"Keep talking to me," he urged, his hand squeezing mine, his eyes never leaving my face. There was no room for doubt in his gaze; it was all unwavering support and love, the kind that could weather any storm.

"I'm scared," I admitted, the words barely audible over the crescendo of my own heartbeat in my ears.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice slicing through the fog of my agony. "You are the strongest person I know. You've got this, and I'm right here with you." His affirmation was more than words; it was a vow, a declaration that we were in this together, no matter how treacherous the path ahead.

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