𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

13

I stumble out into the woods. It's nighttime. My legs are shaking, and my breath comes out in ragged gasps.

Blood trickles down my thighs, hot and sticky, as another contraction rips through my body. As much as I just want to sit. Just for a minute. I can't stop. Not when freedom is so close.

Every second counts, and my captors can come after me at any moment. So, I run. I run like the hounds of hell are on my heels, like the devil himself is breathing down my neck. I run until my lungs are burning and my legs are numb, and the contractions are coming so fast that I can barely stay upright.

The woods close in around me, dark and dense. Branches whip at my face, roots snag at my ankles, but I keep going on, driven by the desperate need to put as much distance between myself and that hell as possible.

Finally, after an hours long trek through the woods, I break through the treeline and see a stretch of highway.

The building I was held in is nowhere in sight. But I'm not safe yet. I need help. I need someone, anyone, to stop and see me, to realize that I'm not just some crazy, bloodied freak but a woman in labor, a woman who's been to hell and back and just needs one fucking person to give a damn.

I scream, a raw, animal sound that tears at my throat and echoes. I wave my arms, I stagger into the road, I do everything I can to flag down the cars that whiz past me in a blur of headlights. But no one stops. No one even slows down. They just swerve around me as if I'm nothing more than a piece of roadkill.

I scream to God. "Haven't I been through enough?!Haven't I suffered and bled enough for my sins?!"

I don't have the strength. I don't have the energy. All I have is pain, as another contraction brings me to my knees on the cold, hard asphalt.

I'm going to die here. My vision starts to blur. I'm going to die on the side of the road, alone and forgotten, with my baby still inside me.

I see a car. Not just any car, but a sleek, black sedan. It's speeding past me, just like all the others...but then, miraculously, it screeches to a halt on the side of the road in front of me.

The driver's side door flies open, and a figure comes racing towards me.

It's Damien. My Damien.

He's here. He's here, and he's gathering me up in his arms. He's crying, really crying, his tears mingling with mine as he cradles me against his chest and whispers my name over and over again. His eyes are red with tears as he holds me close, rocking me gently against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he sobs, his voice raw and broken. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby. I love you, do you hear me? I love you so goddamn much."

I want to answer him, want to tell him that I love him too, that I forgive him for everything. But the words won't come.

"Oh God, Cat...," he chokes out, as he looks at my face, swollen, bruised, bloodied, and scarred. "I never stopped looking for you, baby."

I try to respond, to tell him it's not his fault, that just knowing he never stopped searching for me is enough.

But the words won't come. His voice breaks on a sob, his shoulders shaking. I've never seen him like this before - the mask of the hardened criminal is gone.

I cling to him, my fingers curling weakly into his shirt as another wave of pain crashes over me. I let out a guttural scream.

I feel Damien's strong, steady hands on my swollen belly, cradling the life growing inside me as if he can shield it from harm through sheer force of will.

Damien picks me up and I cry out at the sudden movement, but he just holds me tighter. And then he's running, his strides eating up the distance to the car.

I can feel Damien's heart pounding against my cheek, his rapid breaths stirring my hair as he sprints to the car. As he lays me gently in the back seat, his hands shaking as they brush over my belly one last time.

As he slides behind the wheel and guns the engine, tires squealing as we race towards either salvation or damnation...I close my eyes and pray. For our baby, for our love.

I start to slip into unconsciousness, the pain and blood loss finally overtaking me, I hear Damien's voice. "Stay with me, baby. Don't you dare leave me; you hear me?"

I force open my eyes, refusing to let myself go. With Damien, I am home. And I will fight like hell to stay here.

The last thing I remember before I slip into unconsciousness is the sound of Damien's voice, pleading with me to stay with him, to hold on just a little longer.

Then...nothing.

I wake to the steady beep of a heart monitor. My eyes are heavy, and I can't see anything. But I can hear voices, low and urgent, just outside my door.

"Mr. Caine, I'm so sorry," a doctor is saying, his tone grave. "We did everything we could, but the trauma was just too severe. The baby...didn't make it."

A sound rips through the air, a scream that I barely recognize as human. It takes me a moment to realize that it's coming from Damien, that he's the one sobbing like his heart has been torn from his chest.

And then it hits me, like a punch to the gut, like a knife to the heart. My baby. Our baby. Gone. I want to rage and cry and tear at my hair, to curse God.

But I don't have the strength. I don't have the will. So, I just lay here in the darkness, listening to the sounds of Damien's grief and my own ragged breathing.