Kelly

 

It sounded like a world war was going on outside of these four walls, my prison. I was terrified, afraid to move, afraid to leave, afraid to stay. My stomach was cramping again, and I felt lightheaded, woozy. I had to brace a hand against the wall to keep from falling over. Should I try to make a break for it? Try to find one of Andrei’s men, to find Andrei himself? It might be better to stay put. All those guns going off, all of those bullets…the last thing I wanted was to be caught in the crossfire.

 

Hand still on the wall, I walked over to the window. If I weren’t on the second floor, I would risk breaking a window and trying to escape that way, but I couldn’t risk it. There was no ledge outside of this window, just a straight drop down.

 

The sight of bodies lying on the floor, some of the men writhing around in pain, blood staining the grass, made me even sicker to my stomach, and I had to look away. God, help them. Help me, too. Please. This is terrible.

 

Andrei had come for me, but at what cost to himself and his men? Yes, I had hoped and prayed he would come rescue me, but I never thought it would end up being such a bloodbath.

 

The gunfire continued, on and on without end, and shouts and screams filtered to me, as well as the sound of men fighting. Terrible howls of pain as shots connected. Threats of more violence, promises that loved ones would be hunted. I couldn’t make out all of the words, and I couldn’t recognize any of the voices. My ears were beginning to hurt, even though my closed door muffled the sounds of the shots.

 

How long the fighting lasted, I didn’t know. Had there been neighbors to this house? Couldn’t others hear the gunfire? Would they call the police? Maybe not, if they knew they lived near a mobster’s house. Couldn’t blame them for not wanting to get involved, and maybe the police showing up wasn’t a good idea. Andrei himself was a mob boss. The police might want to arrest him or his men.

 

And if that happened, if we were so close to reuniting only to be separated by jail bars this time, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I wasn’t meant for this kind of life. I needed to not live in fear. I needed something more.

 

I wanted something more. Out of my life. Out of his.

 

If we survived this somehow, I wanted to do something with my life. I didn’t just want to be Andrei Petrov’s woman or mother to his child. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help women who had been abused or kidnapped. I wanted to help them survive. I wanted to give them hope.

 

Hell, I needed hope myself right now.

 

The man who had kidnapped me…he wouldn’t be able to get away with this, right? I could see him try to claim this all as self-defense. They came to my house, guns ablazin’. We had no choice but to fire back. The thought sickened me. If I survived this, I would do whatever it took, I would testify, I would make sure he would end up convicted and in jail.

 

But I had never seen the man behind the curtain. I didn’t even know his name. His men talked about him but only ever referred to him as their boss. What if he tried to claim ignorance? What if he threw his men under the bus and said they acted under their own authority? That he hadn’t ordered them to take me? It would be my word against theirs, and considering I was involved with a mob boss, would the jury believe me?

 

The gunfire and the shouts of the angry and the wails of the dying grew louder. I slid backward to the corner. What if the door opened but it wasn’t Andrei or one of his men on the other side? What if the mobsters holding me hostage decided they didn’t need to keep me around anymore? That I was expendable? There wasn’t a weapon here. All it would take would be a gunshot.

 

The doorknob jiggled, and I held my breath. The door opened. The guy standing there was one I didn’t recognize, but it didn’t matter if he was friend or foe because suddenly he slumped down, bleeding profusely, dead from a shot to the temple.

 

I stifled a scream, my hand over my mouth. I was going to be sick again. This was a nightmare. So much death and carnage. I was going to die here. This was it. The end for the baby and me. We would die. Andrei might have already died. Who knew? The two mobs might shoot each other to the point of destroying both.

 

Trying to calm my stomach, I held it, hunched over, walking bent over to the door, but I didn’t leave. Bullets were whizzing by in the hallway. The house shook suddenly from a big blast beneath us, and I stumbled to the ground, landing hard. What was going on?

 

I brought myself up to my feet, peeked outside, and in the room across from mine, I saw Andrei. He was holding a man by the throat. His lips moved, and from his facial expression, it was obvious he was shouting. Whoever the man was, Andrei was beyond pissed at him. His arm came up, and I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. Was he going to execute the guy? No. Andrei pistol-whipped the man, knocking him unconscious.

 

“Andrei!” I tried to cry out, but his name was unintelligible on my lips.

 

Or maybe not. He turned around, and his eyes widened. The expression on his face…I would never forget it. He looked at me like I was his whole world, his sole reason for breathing, and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the terror that had been my life throughout this ordeal. I couldn’t handle the thought that I might be saved. I couldn’t handle Andrei and his baggage or my baggage either.

 

I didn’t mean to, but I started to cry. There was still fighting going on, but it did seem to be winding down some. The number of shots fired was going down. Maybe they were starting to run out of bullets. I risked a few steps forward so I could peek up and down the hallway. I sorely wished I hadn’t. The amount of dead bodies was terrible. Piles of them. Men stepping over them to shoot at others. The cost was way too high.

 

Andrei was making his way to me, but I didn’t want him to, terrified a stray bullet might hit him, but then he was standing in front of me and picking me up, cradling me to his chest. I had wanted this moment for so long it didn’t feel real. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe I was hallucinating or sleeping. Yes. This was all a dream. A nightmare. Both in one.

 

It took me a few tries to be able to lift my arms to wrap them around his neck. I could feel him, his hard, long body. He felt real. He smelled real. He looked real. Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all.

 

I was still crying, the tears hot against my cheeks. He had to know. He might have saved me, but the baby…I didn’t know if the baby still lived or if I had lost him or her, and that pain remained with me despite my happiness at being held by Andrei again.

 

Through tears and gasps for breaths, with my eyes closed so I couldn’t see his reaction, I managed to say, “I’ve been bleeding. Andrei…Andrei, I probably lost the baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry…”

 

I couldn’t stop apologizing, to both him and to myself. When I opened my eyes, I saw that his face was fierce and grim, so grim. But he didn’t say anything. He just walked down the hallway, stepping over bodies, ignoring the carnage. He held me close, and I should feel safe. I had always felt safe in his arms.

 

I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t feel happy.

 

My sense of happiness, my sense of self, my sense of security…they had taken a lot more than just my body by holding me prisoner.

 

Andrei carefully carried me downstairs, cradling me close to his chest, and we made our way outside. He tenderly placed me in the backseat of his car and belted me in. Then he got behind the wheel. Taking me away from my prison. Taking me to the hospital.

 

I was free.

 

But I still felt trapped.