Lucas is leaning against the car, waiting for us. As his gaze falls on Rosa, I can see his face changing, his impassive expression transforming into something dark and frightening.

“Those fuckers,” he mutters thickly, walking around the car to open the door for us. “Those motherfucking fuckers.” He can’t seem to stop staring at Rosa. “They’re going to fucking die.”

“Yes, they will,” I agree, watching with some surprise as he carefully separates Rosa from my wife and guides the crying girl into the car. His manner is so uncharacteristically caring that I can’t help wondering if there’s something between the two of them. That would be odd, given his fixation on the Russian interpreter, but weirder things have happened.

Shrugging mentally, I turn to Nora, who’s standing by the open car door, her left hand gripping the top of the door frame. She seems lost in her own world, her gaze strangely distant as she lifts her right hand and places it on her belly.

“Nora?” I step toward her, a sudden fear gripping my chest, and at that moment, I see her face go chalk-white.

27

Nora

The cramping sensation I began to feel a few seconds ago suddenly intensifies, turns into a sharp pain. It lances across my stomach, stealing my breath just as Julian steps toward me, his face tight with worry. Gasping, I double over, and instantly I feel his strong hands on me, lifting me off my feet.

“Hospital, now!” he barks at Lucas, and before I can blink, I find myself inside the car, cradled on Julian’s lap as we screech out of the alley.

“Nora? Nora, are you all right?” Rosa’s voice is filled with panic, but I can’t reassure her at the moment, not with my insides cramping and twisting. All I can do is take short, gasping breaths, my hands digging convulsively into Julian’s shoulders as he rocks me back and forth, his big body tense underneath me.

“Julian.” I can’t help crying out as a particularly vicious cramp rips through my belly. I can feel a hot, slippery wetness on my thighs, and I know if I look down, I’ll see blood. “Julian, the child…”

“I know, baby.” He presses his lips to my forehead, rocking me faster. “Hang on. Please, hang on.”

We fly through the dark streets, the streetlights and traffic lights blurring in front of my eyes. I can hear Rosa talking to me, her soft hands smoothing over my hair, and I’m aware of a vague sense of guilt that she has to deal with this after everything she’s been through.

Mostly, though, what I feel is fear.

A hideous fear that it’s too late, that nothing will ever be all right again.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Esguerra.” The young doctor stops next to my bed, her hazel eyes filled with sympathy. “As you might’ve guessed, you miscarried. The good news—if there can be any at a time like this—is that you were still in your first trimester, and the bleeding has already stopped. There might be some spotting and discharge for the next few days, but your body should return to normal fairly quickly. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t be able to try for another child soon… if you wish to do so, of course.”