Until Nico (Until 4)

“Why the fuck is she in the ambulance? You said she’s okay.”

“It’s a precaution. You know that shit.”

“Man, she’s fucking pregnant,” I bellow into the phone. I do not care about anything except her and finding out she’s all right.

“Fuck me,” he growls. I can hear the wind moving down the line, indicating that he’s running. “Sophie, Nico’s on the phone,” I hear him say, and then the line is quiet for a second.

“Hey.” Her sweet voice is like a balm to my rage.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

“Okay,” she says quietly, and I want to fucking scream because I can hear the fear in her voice. She’s been so good—no freak-outs, no worries. She’s settled in and started coming around…and now this.

“Talk to me, baby,” I say soothingly.

“About what?”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I…I’m okay.” I can feel her anxiety through the phone. My foot eases off the gas as I exit off the highway.

“How’s my son?” I ask, hoping to get her to relax a little.

“It could be a girl,” she tells me quietly before taking a deep breath. “I think she’s okay. I…I didn’t hit my stomach or anything.”

“It’s a boy, babe. I keep telling you this,” I prod.

“You don’t know that,” she replies, sounding annoyed, making me smile slightly as I turn onto her street.

I park on the curb, seeing not only an ambulance, but three squad cars. The minute I shut off the car, I hop out and jog to the ambulance. Leo’s standing in front of the open doors of the ambulance with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet planted apart. I can’t see her until I’m right on them. The minute my eyes lock on her, my slightly calmed rage erupts once again.

There’s a scratch down the side of her face and a dark mark under her jaw that looks like a bruise, and the top she has on is ripped at the neck. I take a second to get myself under control before she sees me. I don’t need her feeding off the anger I’m feeling. The second her head turns and our eyes lock, tears fill hers to the brim. Fuck, I hate seeing tears in her eyes, and knowing that she’s scared isn’t helping settle my rage any. I hop in the back with her, getting down on my knees in front of her. The EMT starts to say something, but I give him a don’t-fuck-with-me glare and he backs off.

“Hey.” I hold her face between my hands. She’s so fragile, so fucking breakable, and the most important thing in my life. If something happened to her, I don’t know what I would do.

“You’re here.” She presses her face deeper into my hand.

“Told you I was close.”

“Sir, I’m gonna need you to wait outside,” a different EMT says, hopping into the back with us.

“And I’m gonna need you to cut me some fucking slack. My woman was attacked, and I need to see for myself that she’s okay. As soon as I’m done, I will let you do your job, but don’t fuck with me right now,” I growl.

“Give him a minute, man,” I hear Leo say from outside.

The EMT looks at me and nods before jumping out. My eyes go back to Sophie’s; I study the marks on her, swearing that whoever did this to her won’t be able to walk again after I find them.

“You sure you’re okay? No cramping or anything, right?”

“No, nothing like that. My head just hurts.” Her hand goes to the back of her head, and mine follows her movement. The second I touch the bump on the back of her head, she flinches, and I let off a string of expletives. “You know you can’t cuss like that when the baby gets here, right? The last thing we need is for his first word to be fuck,” she says softly.

“You finally admitting it’s a boy?”

“No.” She rolls her eyes then winces. I lay my forehead against her stomach, just taking a second before asking her more questions. “Are you okay?”

“No… Fuck no,” I choke out.

“I’m okay.” She runs her fingers over my hair, down the back of my neck. I can’t believe she’s trying to comfort me right now.

I finally build up the courage to ask. “What happened, baby?” I hear her take a deep breath, and I lift my head to look at her.

“I was getting all my stuff together for the wedding when I heard someone in the living room. At first, I thought it was you getting home early and you stopped by to help me. I called out your name and you didn’t reply, and then I thought maybe you were trying to scare me. It took a second to realize you would never do that to me.” She shook her head. “I started heading for my phone when a person wearing a ski mask and all black clothes came and stood in my bedroom doorway. As soon as I saw them, I started screaming and put the bed between us. I looked for a weapon, but there was nothing near me. I was so scared.” I can hear the fear in her voice again, and I run my hands up and down her arms, trying to calm her. “The guy grabbed me and started dragging me out of the room. I wiggled out of his hold and got in a good kick to his crotch. I was almost to the front door when he grabbed for me again; that’s when I got this scratch,” she says, pointing at her face. “He got ahold of the neck of my shirt and it ripped, which made me fall backwards and hit my head on the coffee table. Then someone started pounding on the front door and he took off.”

“Jesus, baby.” I pull her closer, needing to know she’s safe, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have made you wait for me,” I insist.