Vivian’s fingers gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.
The road stretched endlessly ahead. Her GPS said she was close, less than three miles. But every mile felt like a thousand, like time itself was trying to slow her down, pull her back, stop her.
“Almost there…” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Almost, baby. Just hold on…”
The baby kicked.
Hard.
Her stomach clenched. A contraction curled deep inside her, like something twisting its claws through her spine.
“Ah…fuck…” she breathed, one hand clutching her bump. “No. No, no, no.
She blinked hard, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t afford to cry now. Not yet. Not when Lucy might be locked in a cage. Not when every second could be the difference between alive and too late.
“Don’t do this, baby,”
