His Innocent Flower, My Slaughterhouse

As the anesthesia flooded my system, my only relief was that I'd been reborn early enough.

The baby was only two months along.

There was still time to fix everything.

Then, a commotion erupted outside the door.

Vincent.

My heart sank.

"Where's the doctor? Get in here and check on her, she fainted! Is she alright? How's the baby?"

"Sir, we have another patient in surgery! You need to go to the emergency—"

"Shut up! One more word out of you and you get a bullet in the head!"

"If anything happens to her, this clinic will be a fucking crater by morning. I promise you that."

A bullet shattered the glass on the operating room door.

The doctor scrambled back in, apologizing profusely.

"Miss, please wait a moment, I'll be right back."

Lying on the cold operating table, a bitter, ironic smile twisted my lips.

Of course.

He wasn't the Vincent I knew.

In his heart and in his eyes, there was only Ava.

How could I have been foolish enough to think he was here for me?

My consciousness began to fade.

My mind drifted back to the moment I first found out I was pregnant.

Vincent was holding me, gently kissing my belly.

"Bella, I'm so glad I have you."

I hugged him back just as tightly.

"When the baby is born, let's leave this place. Let's settle down in Italy."

"We have too many enemies here. I want a normal life."

"Okay, whatever you say. I promise."

The scene shifted. He was pressing a gun to my forehead, his face a snarl.

"I told you, she's different. She's just a student. Why won't you leave her alone?"

"Isabella, this is the first and last time."

Bang.

A gunshot rang out, and a Soldato who had been with me for eight years collapsed in a pool of blood.

"Next time, this will be you!"

The bloody images churned in my mind.

The eight-month-old fetus was cut from me, and then Vincent himself plunged a knife into the wound in my abdomen.

"Where did you take Ava?" he'd snarled.

"Isabella, you're pushing your luck. Don't blame me for being ruthless!"

His voice from my past life echoed in my memory: "She's all yours. Do whatever you want with her. No need to report back to me."

An agonizing pain sent cold sweat beading across my body.

The doctor, wiping his own sweat, shouted, "Quick! The anesthesia is wearing off, the patient is waking up!"

The pain was excruciating. I fainted again.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a dilapidated hospital room.

The only other person there was my confidant, Leo. He rushed forward to help me sit up.

"Bella, you're awake. Are you okay?"

"He went too far this time. Why didn't you let me tell him it was you in surgery? Anesthesia wearing off during an operation can kill someone!"

I forced a weak smile.

"What difference would it have made?"

"His men didn't see you leave, did they?"

"No, we took another way out."

Leo looked at me, his eyes red.

"You took three bullets for him, Bella. Saved his life. And now, for some girl... Why don't we just get rid of her?"

I shook my head.

"If we touch her, we all die."

"He's not the same Vincent."

"Do something for me. After it's done, leave the US. And never come back."

Two days later, I received the forged documents and the overseas account information.

In all that time, not a single call or text from Vincent.

A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest made it hard to breathe.

When I got home, I felt drained of all strength.

Before I could relax, my trained ears caught the distinct click of a gun's safety being released.

I was instantly on alert, my hand tightening on the dagger hidden at my thigh.

My first thought was that it was one of Vincent's rivals.

But my body went limp, collapsing uncontrollably to the floor.

A thick, sweet smell engulfed me.

When I woke up, I was on the bed of a cheap motel. My eyes landed on the disgusting evidence of what had happened.