Page 102 of Tangled Desires

I’m coming.

38

Seven minutes apart

Ibrace against the chair as another wave hits, tearing through me. This is happening. I can’t do this here. They need to get me to a hospital. I need Harrison.

Rough hands grab my arms, hauling me up. “Don’t touch me!” I pull back, squirming. “Please, I need a hospital. I need help, please—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Snake Eyes snaps, shoving me toward the door. Tattoo Face leans in close, his breath rancid against my cheek.

“Maybe we need to show Harrison what happens when you don’t pay your debts,” he sneers.

Another contraction barrels through me, making me stumble. Pain flares, and my head goes light, the room spinning. “Please. Please, don’t do this…”

Snake Eyes smirks, gripping my arm tighter. “Don’t worry. Once you’re tied up in the truck, we’ll send him a nice message. Then we’ll see where he pulls the money from.”

A shout rips through the air. Then—chaos. Gunshots. Blinding lights. A rough shove sends me crashing to the cold, unforgiving floor. The impact rattles through me, but it’s the sharp, searing pain in my lower belly that steals my breath. Contractions, vicious and unrelenting, grip me like a vice, each one twisting deeper, cutting me off from everything except the raw ache.

I twist, wrists bound tight behind my back, the ache in them a dull throb beneath the sharper pain ripping through my stomach. My vision blurs, spinning wildly.

Just. Keep. Moving.At least I’m trying to.

But I can’t. Not like this. The bindings dig deeper, cutting off what little strength I have left. I roll again, gasping for breath. And then I hear it—familiar voices. Bradley’s, sharp and commanding. Then—hands. Strong, steady, warm. They grab my wrists, cutting me free, and instinct takes over. My arms fling around him, gripping tight. So tight. Like if I let go, I’ll lose everything.

Hands I’d know anywhere.

“Harrison...” My eyes blink hard against the blur, but I see him. His face hovers above mine and blood streaks across his skin, and my chest tightens at the sight. “Oh God. Your face… Blood.”

“It’s not mine, baby. I’m fine.” Panic claws its way up my throat. I try to turn, to see where we are, but he grips my chin.

“Eyes on me, Immy. Look at me,” he commands. My gaze snaps back to his. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, gasping for breath. “I’m... okay. The baby.” The words barely make it out as a sharp, brutal pain tears through me.

“You’re bleeding, sugar. Your lip. You’re not fucking okay,” he growls, his eyes blazing with rage. Another contraction hits, white-hot and unrelenting.

“Oh God,” I sob, clutching his arm. “The baby… it’s coming. It hurts. Fuck, it h-hurts.” My voice cracks, choking on the pain.

His eyes widen. “Shit. Oh, shit! She’s in labor!” His voice pitches higher. “I need a car! She’s in labour.” Someone shouts back, but the words blur into noise. All I can do is cling to him, trembling, every contraction tearing me apart.

“Get her in my car. I’ll drive.” Bradley’s voice.

Harrison lifts me, and everything tilts. My vision sways, blurring into shadows and flashing lights. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse—Snake Eyes and Tattoo Face, cuffed and bloodied on the ground. It’s distant, like watching through fog, and the dizziness pulls me deeper. All I feel is the steady, unyielding warmth of Harrison’s grip.

He’s here. I’m safe.

The world flashes past—a storm of sirens, blue and red lights slicing through the dark. I can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the shallow rise and fall of my breath.

“In and out, sugar,” Harrison murmurs. “Breathe with me. It’s okay, you’re safe. Our baby’s safe. I’ve got you, Immy. I love you.” I lean into him, letting his words wrap around me, grounding me. His scent fills my lungs, and I cling to it. To him.

The next thing I know, cool air hits my skin. I’m cradled against his chest as he bursts through the hospital doors. His voice thunders, but it feels far away. “I need a nurse. Now!”

Everything is noise, motion, but I just press my face into Harrison’s neck, my breath shaky and shallow. “Stay with me,sugar,” he whispers, brushing his lips against my temple. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

All I can do is nod, leaning into the only thing that feels real—him. Bradley’s steady voice slices through the haze. “Make sure her vitals are stable—and check the bruising on her face.”

“Bruising?” I choke, looking at Harrison. “What bruising?”

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