Page 73 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

"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.

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