Page 74 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

Three burly men exit, their eyes locking onto me with predatory intensity.

"There she is!" one of them sneers, his voice triumphant.

I skid to a halt, my mind reeling. This can't be happening. How did they find this place? Where's Abram?

I turn around, prepared to run, only to see two men leering at me.

"Nowhere to run now, Sweetheart," another man sneers from my right, advancing toward me with a wicked grin.

I back away, my eyes darting frantically for an escape route. "Stay away from me," I warn, my voice trembling despite my attempt at bravery.

The first man lunges, his meaty hand reaching for my arm. I duck, narrowly avoiding his grasp. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything else.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," the third man growls, circling around to cut off my retreat.

I inch backward, my shoulders hunched, ready to bolt at the slightest opening. "Please," I whimper, hating how weak I sound. "Just let me go."

My back hits rough bark—I've backed into a tree. Panic claws at my throat as they close in, predatory grins gleaming in the moonlight.

Suddenly, a sharp crack splits the air. One of the men stumbles, a red stain blossoming on his shirt. More shots ring out in rapid succession.

"What the—" one of them shouts, spinning wildly.

Chaos erupts as bullets whiz past, kicking up dirt and splintering wood. The men scatter, cursing and yelling in confusion.

I drop to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. My mind races, trying to make sense of what's happening. Who's shooting? Is it Abram? Or have I just traded one danger for another?

As gunfire continues to echo through the trees, I curl into myself, praying that whatever comes next, my baby and I will somehow survive this night.

A familiar voice cuts through the chaos, sending a surge of relief through my body. "Vladimir, flank left! Denis, take the rear!"

Abram. He's here.

I peek up from my huddled position on the ground, my eyes widening as I take in the scene unfolding before me. Abram's team emerges from the shadows like wraiths, their movements synchronized and deadly.

I press myself flat against the earth, my fingers digging into the soil. The sound of gunfire intensifies, punctuated by shouts and grunts of pain. I can't help but flinch at each crack of a weapon, my heart racing so fast I fear it might burst from my chest.

"Abram, we've got two trying to flank us!" Mark's voice rings out, tense but controlled.

Abram's response is immediate. "I see them. Cover me!"

I risk another glance, my breath catching as I watch Abram move. He's like a force of nature, his movements fluid and precise. He weaves through the chaos, dodging bullets with an almost preternatural grace. He reaches one of the men,delivers a reverse kick to disarm him, jumps down back to grab the gun, and shoots the other dead.

I cover my mouth, unable to hold back the scream, when I see the first man coming for him, waving a gun.

“Abram, behind you!” I scream, tears falling down my face, thinking this is it. A sharp pain of agony goes through my body, thinking that this could be the moment I watch my fiancé die.

Abram’s eyes search for mine just briefly, and when he sees me safe. He smiles. And then, in a fraction of a second, he turns, holding up the body of the man he just shot dead. Being too late, his opponent strikes the blade through his friend, and Abram shoots him dead on the spot.

"Zara," he calls out between bursts of gunfire, screaming at me through the distance, "are you hurt?"

All I can manage is a shaky, "I-I'm okay."

He nods and enters the fight again.

The air is thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and metallic blood. Men cry out in pain, bodies thud to the ground, and through it all, I worry every time that someone got Abram.

I close my eyes, not able to witness the massacre, yet open them when I hear a body fall. I pray, each time, not Abram. Please, not Abram.

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