CHAPTER 5 – BLOOD BEFORE BIRTH
The pain started as pressure.
Meline noticed it halfway down the stairs.
A tightening low in her abdomen—deep, unfamiliar, wrong.
She stopped, one hand gripping the iron railing, breath shallow.
“No,” she whispered. “Not now.”
The baby kicked once.
Then went still.
Fear hit her so hard her vision tunneled.
She counted breaths the way the nurse had taught her during her first appointment—the one she’d never told Dominic about.
In.
Out.
The pressure eased slightly.
She told herself it was stress.
It had to be stress.
Because panic could kill a pregnancy faster than any knife.
She reached the sidewalk just as the black SUV pulled up beside her.
Too close.
Too smooth.
The back door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Blonde. Mid-thirties. Expensive coat. Smile trained to disarm.
“Clara Evans?” the woman asked pleasantly.
Meline didn’t answer.
She stepped back instinctively.
The pressure returned—sharper this time.
“We’re from a private medical transport service,” the woman continued. “Your doctor sent us.”
Meline’s heart slammed.
Lie.
Her doctor didn’t know her real name.
Didn’t know her address.
Didn’t know anything except that she was scared.
“No,” Meline said, voice shaking. “You’re not.”
The woman’s smile thinned.
Behind her, the SUV door stayed open.
Waiting.
Meline turned to run.
The Blood Came Fast
She made it three steps.
Then the pain split her in half.
It felt like something tearing.
She screamed.
Her knees hit the pavement hard enough to jar her teeth.
Warmth spread between her legs.
Too warm.
Too fast.
“No—no—no—please—”
The woman crouched beside her instantly, all false concern gone.
“Don’t fight it,” she said quietly. “You’re having a complication. We’ll take care of it.”
Meline tried to crawl away.
Her hands slipped on wet concrete.
She looked down.
Red.
Bright.
Her vision blurred.
“My baby,” she sobbed. “Please—my baby—”
A man stepped out of the SUV.
Large. Gloved hands.
He reached for her.
And then—
The sound of a gunshot cracked the air.
The man dropped instantly.
The woman screamed.
Another shot.
Glass shattered.
People scattered.
Meline felt strong arms lift her—not rough, not hesitant—
Familiar.
Safe.
“Stay with me,” a voice said urgently.
A voice she knew.
A voice she had loved.
“No,” Meline cried weakly. “Don’t touch me—”
“I know,” Dominic said hoarsely. “I know you hate me. I don’t care. You’re bleeding.”
Her head lolled against his shoulder.
He was solid.
Real.
“Dominic,” she whispered. “The baby—”
“I’ve got you,” he said fiercely. “Both of you.”
He carried her into a different vehicle—one already open, already running.
Inside, a medic waited.
Dominic climbed in with her, blood already soaking through his coat.
The doors slammed shut.
The world narrowed to sirens and pain and fear.
The Longest Twenty Minutes of Dominic Valente’s Life
“BP dropping,” the medic snapped. “She’s hemorrhaging.”
Dominic held Meline’s hand so tightly his knuckles went white.
“Fix it,” he ordered. “Whatever it takes.”
Meline cried out as another wave of pain hit.
“I can’t—I can’t lose him—”
“You won’t,” Dominic said, voice breaking. “I swear to you.”
She looked at him then.
Really looked.
And saw something she’d never seen before.
Fear.
Not calculated.
Not controlled.
Pure.
Raw.
For the first time since she’d met him—
Dominic Valente looked powerless.
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
He swallowed hard.
“Because I failed you once,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”
Her vision dimmed.
She felt herself slipping.
“Stay with me,” he begged. “Meline, please.”
She heard him say her name like a prayer.
Then everything went black.
The Baby’s Heartbeat
Returned.
Barely.
The ER lights were blinding.
Doctors shouted orders.
Hands pressed on her abdomen.
Someone said the word placental abruption.
Someone said premature labor.
Someone said prepare the OR.
Dominic stood outside the curtain, fists clenched, blood on his sleeves, watching his world hang by a thread.
He heard a heartbeat on the monitor.
Fast.
Fragile.
His knees nearly buckled.
“Don’t you dare,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare leave me.”
Seraphina Received the News Over Champagne
The glass shattered when it slipped from her fingers.
“Alive?” she repeated sharply.
“Yes,” the voice on the line said. “Both.”
Seraphina closed her eyes.
Unacceptable.
“They interfered,” the man continued. “Valente himself.”
Of course he did.
Seraphina exhaled slowly.
“Then we escalate,” she said calmly. “If the mother survives, she becomes inconvenient.”
“And the child?”
Seraphina’s voice turned cold.
“The child is inevitable.”
When Meline Woke
The first thing she felt was soreness.
Deep. Exhausting.
The second thing she felt—
Was Dominic.
Asleep in the chair beside her bed.
Still wearing the bloodstained coat.
Still holding her hand.
Her fingers twitched weakly.
He woke instantly.
“Meline,” he said softly. “You’re awake.”
Her throat burned.
“The baby?”
His eyes shone.
“Alive,” he said. “Fighting. Just like you.”
Tears slid silently down her temples.
She turned her face away.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know,” Dominic said. “But I am.”
Silence stretched.
Then she whispered:
“She tried to take him.”
Dominic nodded grimly.
“She won’t try again.”
Meline looked back at him, eyes blazing despite her weakness.
“She almost killed us.”
“I know.”
“Your world did this.”
“I know.”
Her voice shook.
“Why shouldn’t I hate you?”
Dominic didn’t flinch.
“You should,” he said quietly. “But hate me later. Right now… let me protect you.”
She studied him for a long moment.
Then she said the words that cut deeper than any bullet.
“If I lose him,” she whispered, “I will never forgive you.”
Dominic leaned forward until his forehead rested against her knuckles.
“You won’t,” he said. “I’ll burn my world down first.”
Outside the Room, Lines Were Drawn
Carlo stood guard.
Silas rerouted hospital records.
Every camera was looped.
Every name scrubbed.
This hospital became a fortress without knowing it.
Dominic stepped out into the hall and spoke into his phone.
“She moved early,” he said coldly. “She broke protocol.”
A voice replied, amused. “You’re emotional, Valente.”
Dominic smiled without humor.
“No,” he said. “I’m finished pretending.”
He ended the call and turned back toward the door.
Toward Meline.
Toward the fragile heartbeat behind it.
And for the first time since this war began—
May you like
Dominic Valente didn’t plan defense.
He planned elimination.
