Page 190 of The Catalyst

I haven’t taken the time to memorize this place, and that fact haunts me like the dead.

The phone rings as I put it to my ear, and after a few beeps, it picks up. “Babe, you know you can’t call me while I’m?—”

I cut him off as quickly as I can. “Oliver! He knows. I–”

I’m slammed into from behind, and my feet come out from under me, throwing me to the ground like an unbreakable glass jar that bounces before it rolls. My arms instantly cradle my stomach as I call out for Ollie, knowing he must hear the struggle on the phone.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” Nolan roars as I come to a stop, and he swings his leg out with all the power in his body, kicking my arm that blocks my stomach. He’s aiming for my baby.

“Ollie, help—” I call out but stop short when Nolan stomps on my phone, effectively cutting out my call for help, but Oliver knows where I am.

“You really thought you could escape? No. You chose the hard option.”

Grabbing his leg, I bite him through the fabric, nearly cracking my teeth from how hard I sink them in. He yells before kicking me in the face. My face vibrates as blood pours down my flesh. The adrenaline masks the pain even though I can feel the throbbing association.

“You’ll have to kill me because that’s what I’ll do to you if you hurt my baby.” I sneer at him as I try to move to my feet, but I only make it to my hands and knees before he gives me a hard kick right in my stomach, and I scream as loud as I can. The pain radiates through my stomach to my back and my hips, all the way down to my toes. I fall face first, cradling my stomach, as he delivers one kick after the other, hitting every part of me, even my face.

“Dad, stop it!” Martin’s voice pierces through the pain, thrumming through every bone, every muscle, every pore of my body, and I can barely open my eyes to see Martin tackle his father to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Nolan’s voice booms as someone slides in front of me, as sobs fall from my lips. I gaze up into Mitchell’s golden brown eyes.

“I’ve got you, ma’am.” He pulls my arms around his neck before lifting my body from the ground. I cry out from the pain that sends tremors all through my body.

“Get her to my car, Mitch!” Martin demands, and Mitchell takes off in a fast sprint as I rest my head on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Mercer. We had no idea this would happen. Master Martin will take you to the hospital and ensure you get treatment.”

“As long as my baby is okay, I’ll be fine,” I rasp as I struggle to pull in air, and Mitchell races through the house, outmaneuvering the security guards, making it out to the garage where Martin’s car is parked down the row of fifteen different luxury vehicles.

Mitchell carries me to Martin’s car and pulls open the front passenger door, depositing me gently into the seat and giving me a wayward smile before leaving me alone.

Tears fall down my face, my lip convulsing with pain and emotion, as I reach down between my thighs and feel the blood slickening my panties. With the confirmation of my biggest fear, I scream and cry over my loss.

My baby boy. My son…is gone.

CHAPTER 75

OLIVER

Ilike to say I’m in the process of switching jobs because Nigel is partnered with Frank to start an auto shop that will financially benefit all of us, but they keep dealing with setbacks, so it’s on pause for the moment.

Part of that probably has to do with Nigel being incapable of staying sober more than a few hours a day.

I groan as I move under the car I’m working on, a blue Nissan Altima with a blown head gasket and in desperate need of an oil change.

This bullshit is how I fund Beth and me living in a hotel to avoid her mom and spend time together without having to deal with the annoyance that is Aimee.

It also has given my cousin a reprieve from the chaos of that damn house. It’s a benefit to all of us.

Aimee has relentlessly tried to get me back into bed with her. Hence avoiding her like the plague.

Beth has her own money from working all through high school, but it's getting low, and Nolan isn’t giving her anything to keep her head above water.

I must admit this is a nice little fantasy we have going on. It’s something I could get used to, coming home to my beautiful, crazy girl every day.

“Hey, Doyle!” Someone calls from within the shop, but fuck if I know who it is. Today I’m filling in at a sister shop to where I am employed, which sucks donkey balls because I’m across town from my woman, and I’m just itching to get back to her. One of us has to make the money to feed our unborn semen demon, and I sure as fuck don’t want her to work in her current condition.

“Yeah?”

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