She lifts her tear-streaked face and those bright blue eyes lock on mine as her dirty blonde hair falls in matted waves around her waist. “Nothing is ever going to be okay,” she says as her hands curl around her swollen, pregnant stomach and screams in agony as a contraction tears through her.
Horror rips through me and all I can do is stare. Her voice is so damn familiar, but her face, it’s the exact same one tattooed across Marcus’ ribs.
“Felicity?” I gasp, getting to my feet as I look back at the poor girl, gripping onto the bars as desperation tears through my chest. My gaze locks on her pregnant belly, the bruises on her face, the blood smeared between her legs. She can’t do this. She’s too weak.
Felicity meets my horrified stare, her eyes telling me so much more than her words ever will. “I tried to warn you,” she breathes as my eyes widen in understanding. “You should have run when you had the chance.”
“It was you,” I murmur, my heart racing in my chest as she screams again, the contraction sending her into a whimpering mess with sharp, agonized pants. “The woman in my room. You shot Marcus.”
She meets my hard stare, not sorry in the least. “I did what I had to do,” she spits through a clenched jaw, clawing at the bars to try and find just a little bit of comfort. “Marcus is a fighter. He would have been fine.”
“They think you’re dead.”
Felicity laughs, her haunted stare raising to meet mine. “Aren’t we?” she questions, sweat coating her skin. “Look around us, Shayne. We’re never getting out of here. Not even the great DeAngelis brothers can save us now.”
33
Felicity’s pained cry tears through the dirty basement and every soft whimper and groan kills me. Call me a fucking pushover, but how can I hold my grudge against this woman while she’s currently in labor with Roman’s child, the one he so desperately wanted, the one he grieves every damn day?
I grip the bars tightly, my knuckles turning white as my knees shake with the worst kind of anxiety. “Come on, girl,” I breathe, not sure if I’m speaking to Felicity or giving myself a mental pep-talk. “You’ve got this.”
“HAVE YOU EVER PUSHED A FUCKING WATERMELON OUT YOUR VAGINA?” she roars. “NO. I don’t think so. I don’t fucking got this. I can’t do this. It’s too early. He’s not ready yet. I’m barely eight months.”
Fuck.
My grip on the metal bar tightens and I rattle it, desperately needing to get to her, to somehow help or get her comfortable. What kind of shit show have I been thrown into? My head aches from where Giovanni hit me, but that’s the least of my problems now. I don’t know shit about giving birth, but I’m almost certain that if the mom is all tense and panicked, it couldn’t mean anything good for the sweet baby trying to claw its way from between her legs. “You need to relax,” I tell her, trying to be as soothing as possible, but the terror in my tone comes through loud and clear. “Take slow deep breaths like they do in the movies.”
“Relax?” she screeches. “Relax? How the fuck do you expect me to relax? I’m giving birth to a fucking baby in a—AHHHHHHHH.” Her screams quickly turn into heavy, pained sobs that get caught in her throat. The contraction passes and she raises her tear-streaked face, the devastation and horror deep in her eyes. “What’s the point? I’m going to die,” she cries. “He’s going to kill me the second this baby comes out.”
I shake my head, pulling on the bars again. “No,” I breathe. “He won’t. You’re going to get out of here. We all are.”
Ariana scoffs from her cell across the room. “What a fucking joke. We’re all dying down here and the sooner you figure that out, the better.”
“Shut the fuck up, you jealous whore,” I spit, sending a venomous glare her way only to see her slumped back in her cell. She’s completely given up on life. “For the record, Roman thinks you’re trash, nothing but a whore to be passed around between his brothers, and definitely not someone worth keeping around. Think about it, he’s crept out of that castle a million times over the past ten years, and not once did he come to save your bitch ass. But you’re right, you will be dying down here, but you’ll be dying alone.”
Turning back to Felicity, I find her an absolute mess. “Don’t give up. Do this for your baby,” I tell her, willing her to hold it together. “Just think about holding him for the very first time. Seeing his little face, hearing those little cries. You can do this. I know you can.”