Chapter 290

ALINA

The door had been closed for what felt like forever.

I had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? In this room, time had stopped making sense. There was nothing to measure it by except the constant ache in my face, the exhaustion weighing down every part of my body, and the cold creeping slowly through the stone floor beneath me.

Every second felt longer than the one before.

I kept my eyes fixed on the door, dreading the moment it would open again.

Santos had left with a promise that still lingered in the air like a threat. He would be back. He had said it with that calm, possessive certainty that made my skin crawl. And when he returned, he would continue whatever twisted fantasy he had built inside his own head.

The thought alone made my stomach twist.

Apparently my body had decided the kidnapping and the chains weren’t enough drama for one day.

Now it wanted to add nausea to the list. Because clearly being held captive in a freezing stone room wasn’t already unpleasant enough.

I swallowed hard as another wave of sickness rolled through me and pressed my head back against the wall.

“Seriously?” I whispered, voice weak and dry. “Now?”

I almost laughed. Of all the times my body could choose to fall apart, it picked this one. Perfect timing. Absolutely flawless.

I refused to let my mind drift toward what Santos might do when he came back. That road led straight to panic, and panic wasn’t going to help me survive. So I did the only thing I still had some control over.

I reached for sarcasm.

I slowly looked around the room, taking in the bare stone walls, the single miserable bulb hanging overhead, the cold floor, and the chains that were apparently part of Santos’s idea of luxury accommodation.

I let out a quiet, humourless huff.

“Hmm. Five-star hospitality,” I muttered under my breath.

“Freezing stone floor. Designer chains. Complimentary head trauma. And enough nausea to make me wonder if my stomach has officially filed for divorce. Truly unforgettable service. Would definitely recommend. Lovely atmosphere. Charming host. Ten out of ten… if you enjoy being kidnapped.”

The joke was weak and bitter, but it was mine. And right now, holding on to any piece of myself felt like a small, necessary victory.

I leaned my head back against the cold wall and tried to breathe through another wave of queasiness.

My ribs protested. My face pulsed with every heartbeat. I closed my eyes for a moment and immediately opened them again when the image of Santos’s face appeared behind my eyelids.

Don’t come back yet.

Please… not yet.

I needed time. Time to think. Time to stay conscious. Time for Alexander to find me.

The thought of Alexander hurt in a different way. I could almost hear his anger — low, controlled, furious.

I could picture him perfectly: storming through rooms, barking orders, making grown men scramble and every single person within shouting distance regret existing.

He would be terrifying. Unreasonable. Completely impossible… mostly because he had no idea where I was, and that alone would be driving him out of his mind.

A weak, broken laugh slipped out of me, mixing with the tears that had started to burn at the corners of my eyes. Of course he would be making everyone’s life hell.

Of course the entire city was probably walking on eggshells right now. He would be tearing the world apart looking for me. I knew the guilt would be eating him alive. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. I wanted to tell him I was still here. Still fighting.

Another slow roll of nausea moved through me. I swallowed hard and pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, trying to keep everything down.

My free hand — the one not limited as severely by the chain — rested weakly against my midsection without me really deciding to put it there. I frowned.

"What the fuck.."

The sickness hadn’t started here. That was the part I couldn’t ignore. The nausea had been coming and going for days, even before Santos took me.

At the time I had blamed everything else: the stress, the lack of sleep, the constant fear that came with living in Alexander’s world. I had even blamed him — the anger I’d carried after discovering his lies, the arguments, the emotional exhaustion of trying to understand the secrets he had kept from me.

Everything between us had been so intense lately that I’d convinced myself my body was simply reacting to the pressure.

I had been tired all the time. More emotional than usual. Little things that normally wouldn’t bother me had felt overwhelming.

My breasts had been unusually tender, something I had noticed but quickly pushed aside because there was always another crisis, another secret, another danger waiting around the corner. I hadn’t stopped long enough to ask myself why my body felt different.

Then another thought surfaced.

My periods. Fuck.

I tried to remember the last time it had come — not vaguely, but properly. I closed my eyes, searching through the chaos of the past few weeks: the move, the safe house, the arguments with Alexander, the constant fear and uncertainty that had consumed every moment. I counted backward slowly. Once. Twice.

My stomach tightened.

It was late. Not by a day or two. Not something I could easily dismiss. By at least two weeks.

My fingers curled against the cold floor as another wave of nausea moved through me.

“Shit…”

The word barely left my lips.

Because suddenly every little thing I had ignored started falling into place. The exhaustion.

The nausea. The tenderness. The emotions I couldn’t seem to control. All the signs I had brushed aside because I had been too busy fighting and arguing with Alexander now connected with terrifying clarity.

I was pregnant.

My hand moved instinctively moved lower to my stomach, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything else. The possibility was almost impossible to comprehend — and yet, beneath the fear, something warm and fragile flickered to life inside me.

Excitement. Hope. The thought that I might be carrying a tiny piece of Alexander and me made my chest ache in an entirely different way.

For a moment I forgot the cold. Forgot the chains. Forgot the pain radiating through my body. I couldn’t breathe.

My pulse stumbled before suddenly racing, every heartbeat loud enough to echo in my ears. A new kind of fear spread through me — different from my fear of Santos. Deeper. More overwhelming.

Because this wasn’t only about me anymore.

If I really was carrying a baby, then that tiny, fragile life could be in danger too. And if Santos found out…

My blood ran cold. No.I shook my head quickly, refusing to let the thought take shape. No. He can’t know.

..

Whatever happened to me, whatever I had to endure, I couldn’t let him discover there might be a child inside me.

Because if Santos even suspected it…

A cold chill ran straight through me.

He wouldn’t see this baby as something innocent. He wouldn’t see it as a life. To him, it would only be proof that I had chosen Alexander completely — that even after all his obsession, all his planning, all the years he spent convincing himself I belonged to him, I had given myself to his rival.

He would see it as the ultimate betrayal.

“No…”

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

I pressed both hands protectively over my stomach, fear sharpening into something fierce and primal.

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t even have the slightest suspicion.

Because this wasn’t just about me anymore.

This was Alexander’s child.Our child.

He doesn’t get to touch what belongs to Alexander and me. And I would protect it with everything I had.

The thought of Santos coming back through that door, bringing with him the same twisted obsession, while a child — Alexander’s child — might already be growing inside me sent a fresh wave of protective terror crashing through me so violently that my head spun.

The fear was no longer just for myself. It was for the tiny possibility of a life that I would do anything to protect.

I curled forward as much as the chains allowed, wrapping my arms protectively around my middle.

“Please, God,” I whispered into the silence, my voice trembling. “If I’m pregnant… please protect my baby.”

Alexander didn’t know. How could he? I hadn’t even known myself until this exact moment.

Shit… what if he never gets to know?

The thought slipped in before I could stop it, cold and cruel.

No.

I immediately scolded myself, shaking my head as much as the pain would allow.

Don’t you dare think like that. He’s coming. He’s going to find us. You’re not allowed to give up on him — or on this. Think positive

My mind drifted, unbidden, toward the impossible thought of Alexander as a father.

For a second, despite everything, the image almost made me smile.

That fiercely overprotective, terrifying man holding something so tiny and fragile in his arms.He would be impossible. Absolutely unbearable.

He'd probably try to turn the entire world into a security detail. No stairs. No sharp corners. No strangers within a ten-mile radius. And God help anyone who dared sneeze too close to his child.

The image was almost too much: that same fierce, overprotective man who already treated me like I was the center of his world, suddenly responsible for something even smaller and more fragile. He would be impossible.

The man who loved fiercely, completely, and without hesitation. I knew how protective he was of the people he cared about. If he knew there was a chance I was carrying his child while trapped with Santos,

I didn’t know what he would do. The anger that already burned inside him would become something far more powerful. Because Alexander wouldn’t just be fighting to bring his wife home. He would be fighting to protect his family.

If my suspicions were right, he was out there tearing the world apart trying to find me, carrying the guilt and fear of losing me, completely unaware that the stakes had just changed. That there might be more than just my life waiting for him to save.

My eyes closed for a moment.

“Please let Alexander find us.”

Because I could endure pain. I could endure fear. I could endure almost anything. But I would not let Santos take this from us. If I really was carrying Alexander’s child, then I had even more reason to survive. More reason to stay awake. More reason to fight every instinct telling me to break down.

I couldn’t give up..Not now.

Not when there was someone else depending on me.

I would not let Santos turn this room into the place where our future ended.

My fingers curled protectively against my stomach.

Hold on, I whispered silently to the tiny possibility growing inside me. Just hold on a little longer.

Alexander is coming. And until he did, I would keep fighting.