Page 50 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

I’m so tired. All I really want to do is go back to bed, but I agree that my blood work should be checked asap. I would never do anything to risk my babies. I trudge upstairs, holding the bannister with one hand, supporting my protruding belly with the other.

Fifteen minutes later we’re in the car. I’ve done a decent job at cleaning myself up, and as Nathan drives out of the gates of the palatial Capulet grounds, I’m applying concealer to my face, trying to hide the giant black rings underneath my eyes. The insomnia is horrible, but I’m still clinging on to every single day of being pregnant. When my children are inside me, I know they’re safe. I know where they are. Their kicks and rolls reassure me that the three of us are alive, for now at least.

I know the moment they’re out of my body, I will no longer have that luxury of having them all to myself, of knowing where they are at all times. Once they are out, they will become pawns in Nathan’s game to control everything and everyone I hold dear.

I never want to give birth. I want them to stay inside of me, safe and snug, forever.

But that’s not going to happen, is it?

“Next Friday,” Nathan says to me. “Tell the doctor to book the c-section for next Friday. Morning, preferably.”

I swallow thickly, almost dropping the concealer stick in my hand. “What?”

“What?” Nathan mimics me. “You heard me.”

I stuff the concealer back into my purse and give my full attention to my asshole husband, who is driving like a fucking Formula One driver through heavy traffic. Cutting and weaving, changing lanes, taking side streets.

“I don’t need a c-section,” I say carefully. “The doctor said a natural birth is less risky.”

Nathan lets out a laugh. “And wreck your pussy? I’m not going to throw a hotdog down a hallway every time I fuck my wife. No, thank you. You’ll have a c-section, and you’ll be as tight as that first night I fucked you with your little blindfold on.”

My heart threatens to explode in my chest. I don’t want a c-section. I don’t particularly care if my birth happens through the canal or the sunroof, as long as my babies are healthy, but I was hoping to avoid major surgery. I was hoping to not be pretty much paralysed from the waist down for the few days after the birth. As if reading my mind, Nathan continues.

“Besides,” he says, overtaking a police cruiser, going fifteen over the limit, “a few days stuck in a hospital bed will do you good. You’ll be full of hormones after the babies are born. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret, like trying to run off with my children.”

He looks at me pointedly as he parks in front of the hospital’s main entrance, meant for ambulances only, but he’s a Capulet - nobody is going to tell him to move. “I’m just trying to protect you from yourself, Avery.”

“Thank you,” I seethe, opening my door and hauling myself out. “Thank you so fucking much.” I slam the door and he blows me a kiss before he takes off, watching me in his rear view mirror intently until he disappears from view.

I look up at the imposing building and slowly walk inside, clutching my stomach. All the while thinking,there has to be a way out of this madness.

I’m exiting the lift on the fifth floor - the maternity ward - when my phone vibrates in my purse. Nathan. I answer, not wanting to endure the punishment he’ll dole out later if I ignore him. I put the phone to my ear and he’s talking before I can even say hello. “Get back downstairs,” he barks. “Now!” He sounds crazed. Adrenalin pulses in my stomach as I rush over to the floor-to-ceiling windows right beside the lifts. I peer down into the parking lot. Nathan’s obnoxious red Porsche Cayenne is speeding through the hospital grounds, coming to a stop in the spot where he dropped me off less than five minutes ago.

“Why?” I ask slowly.

A hand wraps around my wrist, pulling the phone from my grip. I jump, turning to see Elliot McRae and about twenty other police officers wearing SWAT gear filling the hallway.

“You don’t want to go downstairs,” Elliot says, with a satisfied smile. “Trust me.”

I let him take the phone from me, Nathan’s raging demands ceasing when he presses the big red END CALL button. I look out of the window again, watching in wonder and horror as police officers tackle Nathan to the ground and try to cuff him. Rome. What will happen to him if Nathan is arrested?

“Your husband is safe downtown,” Elliot says, and I turn to him, confused. “What do you mean?” I ask, the tiniest pinprick of hope flickering in my chest. I can’t dare to hope. “We’re not downtown. We’re nowhere near downtown.”

Elliot puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. He squeezes gently.Reassurance.“Mrs. Montague,” he says emphatically. “Your husband is safe downtown. Rome Montague is alive. He’s free.”

As if in a dream, I turn back to the window, placing a hand on the cool glass as I watch Nathan resist the officers piling onto him five floors below. He’s not giving up without a fight. A cop tasers him, and he shakes violently, currents of electricity running through his body, forcing him to comply. A wicked smile touches my lips, tugs at the corners. I haven’t felt this calm in my entire life. I feel alive. Hope blooms inside my rib cage, pushing aside the sorrow, the loss.

I put my other hand on my belly, feeling the babies roll and kick. It’s as if they know something has happened. They can feel it too. I close my eyes, resting my forehead on the glass, smiling as relief floods every cell of my being. When I open my eyes again, Nathan is on his back, and even though I’m up this high, I can see his eyes. He’s staring at me.

I blow him a kiss.

He doesn’t like that. He bucks and struggles like a wild animal, until they have to taser him again. A slow smile of vindication spreads across my face as I watch the officers hog-tie Nathan and throw him into the back of a police cruiser.

That’s the last thing I see before my knees buckle and everything goes black.

Chapter Thirty-Three

AVERY

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