Not when I go to rescue the woman with whom I cannot see living the rest of my life without.
31
SONYA
Sudden light wakes me out of my doze. I'm exhausted after hours of constant fear and barely any sleep. I finally forced myself to get some rest because I know the twins need me at my best.And if I'm going to get us out of here, I'm going to need some strength to do it.
I blink at Genevieve as she hurries over to the bed, wondering if this is some sort of torture or psychological punishment, keeping me up at all hours.
“Come on,” she says conversationally, as though she didn't just burst into my room in the middle of the night. “We have to go.”
“Go where?” I struggle to sit up, my brain still fuzzy.
“Something's up. It's time to move you. I don't want anyone taking my babies away from me.”
I nearly snap but hold my tongue. I hate to admit how scared I am of this woman's psychotic side. I don't know how she'd react if I talked back to her, and I don't want to find out.
Genevieve unties the bindings holding me to the bed. I sit up slowly to preventarush of blood draining from my head and making me dizzy, rubbingmy wrists where the rough materialabradedmy skin.
“Hurry up.” There's urgency inGenevieve'srequest, but I just glare at her.
“You'regoing to have to give me a minute. If you want the twinstobe healthy, you'll let me do what I need to. Do you know what happens if I get stressed?”
Genevieve peers at meas if todecide whether I'm telling the truth or not. “What?” she finally asks.
“Stress affectsbabies in any number of ways, including low birth weight and other issues. If I get too stressed, I could go into preterm labor, and these babies are way too young to survive outside the womb, just like the doctor told you yesterday.So I suggest you let me do what I need to do if you want them to be healthy.”
Her lips thin. She’s not happy to comply, but she will anyway, because she doesn't want to risk the children.
I wonder why Genevieve Mancini even wants children. She can't possibly need something to love—in fact, I'm pretty positive she's incapable of loving anyone but herself, just like Samson.So why does she want children so badly that she's willing to kidnap me, hold me hostage, and steal them from me, killing me afterward?
I hear noises. Faint but sharp, confusing and worrying. Genevieve shifts from foot to foot, her gaze darting between the doorandme. The way she's trying to rush me tells me something else is going on.
When I glance out the door, I see no signof the menwho have guarded me nonstop since they brought me here.
“Help me up.” I hold my hand out to Genevieve, hoping she doesn't realize I can move fine on my own.
My gamble pays off, because she comes closer, her mouth still a thin line of annoyance. When she grabs my hand, I lock hers in both of mine and pull as hard as I can. With a shout of surprise, she goes down as I come up, and I hit the ground running.
I'm almost to the door when shegrabsthe back of my sweater, nearly knocking me off my feet as she jerks me back.
“No, you don't, bitch. You aren't going anywhere with my children.”
She spins me around and attempts to slap me, but I step in instead of away. The movement surprises her enough that I'm able to jab a palm up under her chin, snapping her head back before bringing my knee up between her legs. She goes down with a wheezing cry as I look around for something I can use to defend myself.
Her leg snakes out, and I tumble over it, falling to my hands and knees. I'm running entirely on adrenaline now, desperate not to lose this one chance of getting out of here alive with my children. I crawl toward the side table with the lamp. My fingers just brush the porcelain when, with a screech, Genevieve grabs my legs and hauls me back.
“I'm going to put you in a fucking coma so you'll stay quiet for the rest of this pregnancy,”she shrieks.
My hand misses the lamp,but I’m able to closemy fingers aroundthe power cord, and I use the momentum of beingdragged backwardtopull it from the wall. The lamp follows the cord with a crash, and I reel it in frantically, flopping over just as Genevievestraddlesme, a frightening, triumphant smile on her face.
“You're not gonna be trouble any?—”
The sound of the porcelain lamp shattering against her head interrupts whatever she was about to say, and sheslumpsforward.
It takes me a moment to scramble out from under her dead weight, and I'm breathing hard when I look back to make sure she's actually unconscious. She isn’t moving, blood oozing slowly from a nasty gash at her temple rapidly turning purple.
“They’remychildren, you crazy bitch,” I say, even though I know she can’t hear me.