It’s me who doesn’t speak this time. He is so angry, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. My throat works as I swallow, as I struggle to stand my ground and not back away.

“I have worked my ass off to get this done,” he starts, stepping toward me, dark eyes full of malice. I remember what I’d thought at the hospital. That even though Abel hates me, he hates Santiago more. But is he capable of hurting me to hurt him?

“Do you have any fucking clue what it takes to organize something like this? Getting you out of that hospital. Giving you the location of the safe house. Making the arrangement for the fucking doctor. Do you have any—”

“What doctor?” I ask, the room feeling icy suddenly.

His glance shifts again to my stomach, and he seems calmer when he looks back at me again. “I’m doing what you want, Ivy. For you.”

“What doctor, Abel?” I push, panic rising.

“I’m going to get that monster’s baby out of you.”

“What?” My voice trembles even as I hear my own words repeated with so much venom.

“Isn’t that what you said? What you wanted?”

“No. God, not like—”

“It’ll be another two hours before the doctor gets here.”

“I don’t want any doctor.”

“You just stay put,” he says, ignoring me, refusing to hear me. “Stay in this room, and do not go out there. It’s safer for you. Do you hear me?”

“I don’t want a doctor.” I’m shaking my head, my entire body beginning to shudder. “I’m not…” My voice cracks as I try to speak the next words. “Abel…it’s a baby.” I square my shoulders. “And I’m not going to hurt my baby.”

He’s on me so quickly I just have time to let out a scream before his hand squeezes around my throat and he has my back pressed to the wall.

“You need to learn to be fucking grateful, Ivy.” Spittle lands on my face when he says my name. “I could have one of those men beat it out of you, but I’m not doing that, am I?” He cracks his neck, eyes strange, the look inside them unhinged.

I try not to struggle, try to stay perfectly still and breathe.

“Fuck!” He squeezes hard once before he releases me, and I wonder about the rage inside him. The violence. I remain where I am as he walks to the door.

But I can't let this happen. I can’t let him do what he’s planning.

“It’s my baby too. Not just his.”

He spins back so fast, right arm raised, his hand a fist, and all I can do is drop to the floor. Turning away from him, I try to protect my baby before he does what he warned. Before he beats the child out of me.