Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
She turned her head toward me. “What if I’m a bad mother?” she asked.
“That’s not possible.”
“How is it not possible?” she asked. “There are a lot of bad mothers out there. People hurt their kids. I’ve been scared about dying and leaving, but what if my baby is better off? I had a bunch of horrible nannies. There was only one or two nice ones.”
She let go of the carton of ice cream and I took it from her. Lifting the spoon, I took a spoonful and was not shocked to see it was double chocolate. One of my favorite flavors.
“You’re not going to be a bad mother,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re kind and sweet, and I don’t think the moment you give birth, all of those things are going to change. You don’t just change overnight, babe,” I said. “You’re who you are.”
Freya looked at me and I saw the fear in her eyes.
“I could be a bad dad. My dad set me up for torture to make me a strong man. I killed my dad.”
“You’re going to be a good dad,” Freya said.
“None of us know that. None of us know what is going to happen.” I reached out and cupped her cheek. “So long as we have each other, and Ivan, and everyone, including The Butcher, everything will be okay.”
“I want The Butcher to be our baby’s godmother,” she said.
I was expecting this. They were close, after all.
I blew out a breath. “Are you sure about that?” I asked.
Freya laughed. “Stop being so mean. She’s a good woman.”
I didn’t know how to respond. The Butcher was very loyal. She had my wife’s back, and for that, I couldn’t fault her.
“Then she is the godmother,” I said.
Freya nodded. “I feel like there is so much to do.”
“I know.” I stroked her cheek. “And you don’t have to worry about everything. We will get it done. This pregnancy is going to be fine.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
****
Freya
The day had started like any other day. I was not allowed to have a routine, so I woke up and thought about everything I wanted to do, but not in the same order as the day before.
What did stay the same was Victor holding my hair back as I enjoyed the morning sickness that came from being pregnant. Thank you very much.
After the sickness, I brushed my teeth, because vomit breath was gross. I took a quick shower to feel refreshed and looked in the closet at my clothes. I had made all of them myself. I reached for a dress, but something in my gut told me I shouldn’t wear a dress today. It was a strange feeling. An eerie feeling. One I didn’t like.
Even though the morning sickness had come and gone, I felt something. I had no idea what it was.
So, I picked a pair of jeans, that I had replaced the waistband for, with an elasticated one. A long-sleeved shirt billowed out from my breasts. My stomach was slightly swollen, and my breasts felt like they were getting bigger by the second.
I tied my hair back into a ponytail, and then I made my way downstairs. I didn’t recognize the guard at the door, and that was strange. In the last few months, I had recognized everyone. Victor wouldn’t allow the guards to change.
I looked at him, and he looked at me, and then I saw him speak into whatever device was on his wrist.
Just as I was about to yell for help, the explosion happened and I tried to hold onto the rail, but the house shook, the stair rail snapped, and I cried out as I fell through hitting the ground with a thud. I quickly tried to get to my feet, but my ears were ringing, and I think I heard gunshots.
Someone grabbed me, and I knew this was not good. This was not one of my guys. I was pulled to my feet, but I refused to go willingly. Thinking of the training Victor and The Butcher had put me through, I fought. screamed, kicked, and lashed out. I used my nails and bit anything that was close.
Throughout the struggle, I thought I was going to get away, but then I felt the hit to my face, and I saw stars. I didn’t pass out, and part of me wished I had, because the pain seemed to ricochet through my head, and it made me feel sick.
The fight was gone from me, and I didn’t stop as they dragged me into the back of the car. The man that had grabbed me tossed me to the ground, and I cried out as he threw his foot out and slammed it into my stomach.
My baby.
I curled up in a ball and tried to protect my baby, even giving him my back. His anger was not done. I lost count of the blows, and he even kicked my head. Someone must have stopped him. This is what I was afraid of.