Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
My head’s a symphony tuning up, noise with no structure, until it suddenly goes dead quiet when one test finishes first.
I lift it up, staring, mouth hanging open.
Then the next is done. And the next. Each of them shoving an undeniable truth in my face.
“Positive,” I say, breathless, almost flinging the pee-covered tests in poor startled Vito’s face. “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant!”
He laughs and wraps me in a big hug. “Congratulations,” he says gently. “I wish I weren’t the first person you told, however.”
“Tigran.” My stomach twists. Excitement rocks down my spine. I never thought I’d actually want a baby, at least until right now that I actually have one on the way. “I need to go to him. Right now, Vito, please.”
He nods sharply. “Yes, dear, I’ll drive you myself. I know where he’s working this afternoon.”
I run into the bedroom, get changed into more comfortable clothes, and follow Vito into the hall. I’m going to be a mother. I’m pregnant with Tigran’s baby. We have a child on the way, and we’re going to be a real family.
It’s overwhelming and scary and so, so exciting.
I’m a sweaty, jittery mess. I’m so beyond freaked and joyous that I don’t even question it when I get into the passenger seat and Vito starts up the engine. He drives me away from the house, and it’s the first time I’ve willingly gone into the world without Tigran, but we’re speeding toward him, hurrying to my husband.
I’m so ready to tell him the good news.
I didn’t think I would be. In that bathroom, the tests still testing, I thought this would be too scary, but the fear’s overwhelmed by the joy. I honestly can’t wait to see my husband’s reaction to the news. He’s going to be so happy, and I can almost taste the kiss he’s going to slam onto my mouth. My husband, my big, protective, obsessive husband, my Tigran—
“What the hell is—” Vito says, leaning forward. Then the brakes are screaming, and his hand comes across to shove me against the seat. “Dasha! Hold on!”
We’re in the middle of an intersection, right beneath a green light, when a truck going way too fast slams into the side of our sedan.
Chapter 28
Dasha
The world turns into crunching glass, blurry motion, and screaming. So much screaming. I don’t even realize it’s me until the car comes to a rest on its side, my shoulder stuck down against poor crushed Vito. His window is against the pavement, and mine’s up in the air.
It takes me a few seconds, or maybe a few hours, before I figure out what’s going on.
“Shit,” I mutter, hurting all over. There are glass shards in my hand. I pick one out, groaning. “Oh, fuck.”
Silence. So much quiet. Why aren’t more people screaming? We just got into a terrible car accident, and the world nearly ended. But there’s nothing. Just a soft hissing noise.
“Vito?” I reach down for the old man, but he’s not moving. There’s a cut on his forehead, and it’s bleeding profusely into his face. “Oh, god, Vito!” I try to feel for a pulse, but I’m trapped by the seatbelt and having a hard time getting my fingers in the right spot.
Then I hear the voice.
I almost think it can’t be real. I’m concussed. I’m dreaming. That voice can’t be here, right now, in this horrible silence.
But I hear it again.
“Dasha, Dasha, Dasha. Are you still alive, my Dasha?”
No, no, no, this can’t be happening. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. The scar on my face throbs, an ugly wicked pulse. Memory assaults me: the stink of the cage, the reek of my own piss and shit, the thin nasty oatmeal he shoved in through the bars, the stale old water he fed me through a water bottle like a fucking animal. The hot pain of the knife scraping the flesh on my face. The relief when I staggered out of that cage and into the blinding sunlight.
“Dasha, darling, it’s been so long.” The voice is closer now, right outside the car. I struggle to look around, retching with terror. I see a man moving nearby through the splintered windshield. “When I heard it was you, I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t imagine. But finally, after all this time—”
The face of my captor from twelve years ago appears in my window, lips stretched back over yellow teeth, his unruly red hair disheveled and wild, blood leaking from his right nostril, his eyes bright and manic just the way I remember them.
“No,” I moan, trying to get away, but I’m stuck. I can’t get away. It takes me way too long to realize I still have my seatbelt on. “No, no, this can’t be real. You’re dead.”
“I’m dead?” he asks, sounding surprised as he reaches his strong arms in through the window. He grabs me, one hand snapping open my belt, the other dragging me by the bicep toward him. “Nope, not dead, at least not yet. Not for a while if I’m lucky.”