He pulls on my arm, sitting me up, and I can hear people running through the trees and the dirt driveway. He stands up, and I see his shirt is soaked with blood. His pain radiates into me through the bond, and I don’t understand how he is able to force himself up.
“Ryland!” I squeal, pressing my hand on his wound, trying to stem the bleeding.
“Run, now, Evelyn!” he screams just as I hear guns start going off everywhere. Ryland shoves me, and I hear the bullets whiz past me as I stumble, get up, and run, bolting for the tree line of the forest.
I hear Ryland groan loudly and then hear a ferocious growl ring out, echoing off the trees. I don’t dare look back; instead, I concentrate on running without falling. My hand is trying to hold my belly as I move; pain runs through my stomach and groin with each step.
I see the tree line get closer, I can hear people yell and scream when I feel it; feel like I have been punched in the shoulder. Ignoring the pain, I keep running when I feel my muscles go funny, my body becomes weaker, and I feel something hit me again, but this time in the lower back, making me gasp as I clutch at it.
My hand comes in contact with something, and I pull it out to look at it. I can feel my surroundings become a green blur as I stare at the dart I have just pulled out of my back. The dart slips from my fingers, and I see the ground rush toward my face.
My entire body goes numb, and I feel my limbs become heavy before I hear voices, the voices getting closer and closer until they sound like they are right on top of me. “Got her, bring the other one,” I hear a deep male voice call out.
I try to open my eyes, yet they feel too heavy; even breathing feels hard as I fight to take each breath. I feel movement, my head rolls back as someone grabs me.
“Ryland,” I breathe. I try to talk, but the words come out slurred and muffled.
“Hurry, we need to get back before their mates get back here.”
I feel the darkness creep in, black swallows my consciousness as I slip into oblivion.
Waking up, I find myself on the ground. The cold concrete floor makes my limbs ache. Sitting up, my eyes are blurry, and I can smell a strong smell that reminds me of chlorine. I gasp when I see Ryland braced to a wall by cuffs holding his arms to the wall. His body slumps over, and I can see blood pooling around him. I roll onto all fours, trying to crawl my way over to him. Each movement sends searing pain across my stomach that takes my breath.
“Ryland,” I stammer, trying to breathe through the overwhelming pain. I am weak; I have to lay down on the cold ground. My limbs are unwilling to do what I need them to do. “Ryland,” I ask again, my voice cracking and sore as I try to speak. I hear him groan, and I turn my head to see him move his head before he suddenly starts jerking his arms trying to free himself. The braces don’t budge. I notice his wrists bleeding, and I can’t help the sob that leaves my lips at seeing him so badly injured.
“Silver,” he mutters, his eyes going to me. “Don’t cry; I am fine,” he says, though I can feel he isn’t fine through the bond. His pain radiates into me with my own. He looks around the room and starts coughing. Blood sprays out of his mouth onto the floor, and his breathing wheezes when I notice the wound on his chest pouring with blood.
“You’re not healing,” I tell him, and he coughs.
“Don’t worry about me. Can you get over to me?” he sputters out, blood dribbling down his chin.
I try to get up, falling face-first into the concrete, my limbs feel like jelly, but after a few attempts, I crawl over to him, putting my head on his lap when I feel it.
My legs are becoming saturated, and I feel like I have wet myself. “No, no, not now,” I cry.
Ryland looks down at me and gasps. “Shit, your water just broke,” he coughs out, as he tries to free his arms but fails.
He starts screaming out for someone. I’m screaming, trying to get their attention when I hear footsteps on the ground behind the steel door. Pain moves across my abdomen, so sharp my body jerks when I feel my insides tear, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream of agony. Ryland is screaming out when the door suddenly opens.
“Help her; she is in labor. You need to let me out, or she will die.”
“Nice try, Lycan,” says a voice, but I am lost to the pain, unable to concentrate on anything but the agony I am in. I feel someone grab my arms and legs. I writhe in pain, as the pain rushes throughout my body when I hear a sickening crack; my ribs break, and I scream as I feel her move within me.
“Get her to the infirmary now!” I hear an unfamiliar female voice call out as I am placed on something cold and hard.
Evelyn
I can hear their voices around me, yet all I can see is darkness and the occasional flickering of lights above me. I know I am on some sort of trolley, feel the movement and jostle of the gurney they have me on, yet all I can think of is the pain. My insides are being ripped to shreds, and I have no control over it; my body jerks, and I can feel her savage movements as she tries to rip her way out of me.
“Hold her down,” I hear a feminine voice yell before I feel gloved hands grip me. Panic courses through me as I try to thrash, unsuccessfully. I am choking on my blood, my lungs burn for air, and I am coughing uncontrollably as I feel warm liquid leave my mouth and run down my neck.
“Just cut it out; she is as good as dead anyway,” I hear a male voice talking calmly, as if the very person they are effectively killing isn’t lying and writhing in pain below them. The coldness seeps into my bones as I feel my life slowly draining from me.
“Once the baby is out, take it to the lab. I want its blood; then we need to move before its father comes looking for her.”
“You are sure this is going to work?”
“He will come looking for her; then we will use her blood to kill him.”
“What about the baby?”
“It’s a monster. It will grow up to be exactly like its father. We only need its blood, then dispose of it.”
My screams are dying out at their words as I focus on what they are saying and what they mean. I start thrashing, mustering any strength I have.
“I said hold her down. How is she still alive?” I hear the woman mutter, and then I feel something slash my stomach.
I feel the warmth of my blood run over the sides of my body as they cut me, yet all I can focus on is the sounds of my blood spattering on the floor, echoing loudly in my ears until I hear a shrill, high-pitched sound of a baby crying. Why am I not dead? I can still hear them, though the sound is becoming muffled, distant as I strain to hear; hear her cries, when suddenly, I feel no pain at all, just cold. Oh so cold as I listen to my heart thump one last time, the noise I will never forget: my dying gasp before I feel nothing.
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