Blurred Lines

Chapter 3

When the trunk opened, light blinded her, invading the darkness so forcefully that it felt disorienting. Shapes and shadows danced in her blurred vision, but when the discomfort passed, the first thing she noticed was the Hemlock. Lofty branches shot high above them. Green velvet pine needles spread as far as the eye could see. 

He cleared his throat watching her as she surveyed her surroundings fearfully, wondering where on earth he'd brought her. 

He kept one hand on the open trunk and when she turned to him, he offered it to her, like he hadn't been the one to shove her into the trunk hours before. She refused, half expecting that he would grab her arm and drag her out anyway, but he stepped aside, letting her throw one leg out after another, to stand on numb bare feet. She only realised then that she wasn't wearing any shoes.

Grabbing hold of her wrist, he covered the remaining part of the trail on foot, marching them deep into the woods until the clearing where he'd left the car was left far behind them. 

"Can we just stop for a minute," she pleaded breathlessly. 

"Ruslan? You're hurting my arm. Please. Can we just stop for a moment." 

He let go of her wrist, coming to an abrupt halt. For a second she thought he'd stopped to give her a minute,  but the moment he turned toward her, something in the way his eyes searched the depths of hers, confirmed what she'd known all along; what she'd felt in the pit of her stomach since she'd seen him kill that man. He was going to kill her.

She took a tentative step backward. 

"I wouldn't do that," he warned.  

"You... you have to listen to me. I had no idea you were there. I was going home," she said, trying to explain.

He stared back at her, his eyes vacant, as though he were trying to tell her it made no difference why she was there. 

"I... I used the back alley because I didn't want to run into you. I didn't know you'd be there."

He raised a disbelieving brow. 

"No I mean, I found out later on that you were there. I thought if I left through the kitchen, I'd avoid you. Please Ruslan. You have to believe me. I haven't told a soul. I would never be so stupid," she said, pressing a hand to her throat, as a feeling of heat as hot as fire spread through her body. 

"I won't talk. I'll keep my mouth shut. You will never hear from me again. I'll leave the Den. I'm quitting in August anyway," she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He watched her without expression. His Adam's apple bobbing down and then up again as he swallowed with indifference to the promises she made. 

"I'll leave Chicago," she went on, but was abruptly silenced when he toyed with a lock of her hair, folding it gently behind her ear.

The vacant look in his eyes told her that he hadn't heard a word she'd said, because nothing was going stop him from doing what he'd set out to do today. 

"You know I can't let that happen Abigail." 

He brushed an index finger across her forehead, pushing her wavy hair out of her face. 

"You saw something you had no business seeing," he finally said,  his nose wrinkling at the memory of her presence that night, like it was something distasteful he'd rather not remember. 

"You know I can't let you live," he said, his face betrayed nothing more than a single twitch in his jaw.  

"Get on your knees Abigail."

His voice was dry and flat, like he was done talking. 

Her eyes drifted to the gun he drew from his waistband, making her drop to her knees, as a wave of nausea washed over her. She was tired and a small part of her wanted to surrender to that fatigue that had plagued her since that night, the helplessness it had created, but she couldn't - not now, not knowing what she did.  

A brook of steady quiet tears streamed down her cheeks, her body sensing the turmoil growing within her, not because of what he was threatening to do to her, but for what she was about to do to herself. 

"You can't kill me," she said quietly, looking up into his eyes. 

"I'm pregnant."

She leaned forward on her hands and knees, her chest heaving violently before a burst of vomit projected out of her. It was mostly bile, and it half splattered, half dribbled out of her mouth onto the ground near his feet.

He stepped back, the shock of her revelation confusing him momentarily.

She wiped the residue around her mouth with the back of her hand, enjoying what was likely to be the first and only time she'd have any kind of domination over him.   

She crawled to the closest tree, leaning against it, letting the trunk support the weight of her aching back. 

His eyes zeroed in on her with a look of hesitation. The first doubt she'd seen cross his face all morning. 

"What did you say?" he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if he were daring her to repeat it.

"I'm... I'm preg... pregnant,"  she stuttered, feeling the weight of the spoken words she'd never uttered aloud.  

He stalked  toward her, grabbing her underarm and lifting her to her feet. 

"What do you mean you're pregnant?" he asked. 

He shook off his surprise quickly, reverting back to his menacing self in no time.  

She watched as his eyes glazed over, lost in some distant thought far from where they stood opposite one another. When he turned his attention back to her, he let his eyes wander briefly to her stomach, before moving back up to her face.

"I said, what do you mean you're pregnant?"  With every syllable his voice seemed to grow louder.

"I know it's not mine because I used a condom. Remember?" he went on. "Because I always use a condom for this very fucking reason!" he said, stalking over to her.

Yeah she remembered alright. Yet here they were almost 4 month later and she had no way of explaining any of it.

"If you're lying," he said, his eyes barely containing the rage his face didn't bother to hide, "you'll be back here before nightfall. Make no mistake."

The intensity of his gaze made her eyes drift to the tattoo on his chest. She could just see the point of the star peeking through his unbuttoned collar. 

He grabbed her chin and tilted her face upward, holding it in place before asking her what she knew was coming.

"Explain to me how this happened."

She turned away from him and out of his grip.

"Abigail!" he said, unrelenting as he grabbed her face in his hand and forced her to look up at him.

"I don't know," came her response, sounding smaller and more resigned than she'd intended it to.

He dropped his hand, taking an involuntary step back, looking at her with confusion.

"I used a fucking condom," he said unwavering in his denial. 

"Do you seriously think I would lie about something like this?" she finally managed. She didn't sound angry or insulted. She sounded upset."You think I planned this? That I wanted to be pregnant with your baby?"

He shot her a predatory glance.  

It silenced her instantly. 

"There's only one way to find out if you're telling the truth," he said.