Too Late To Beg: My Cold Ex-Husband

Annis POV

We never made it to the safe house.

Instead, we had ended up at a cheap airport hotel on the outskirts of the city. I was trembling, sitting on the edge of the sagging mattress, clutching my bag like a lifeline. Haven was pacing the narrow space, his phone pressed tight to his ear as he tried to arrange a flight.

Then, the door didn't just open; it exploded inward.

I didn't even have time to scream. Two of Dominick's soldiers filled the small room, blocking out the hallway light. Haven moved to intercept them, his reflexes sharp, but he was hopelessly outnumbered.

One of them slammed the butt of a pistol into Haven's temple with a sickening crack.

He hit the carpet instantly, unconscious before he even landed.

"No!" I screamed, lunging for him.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind, halting my movement with bruising force. I smelled expensive cologne mixed with the sharp tang of gunpowder.

Dominick.

He spun me around, his fingers digging into my arms. His face was a mask of cold, unyielding fury.

"You think you can just walk away?" he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You think you can just leave with him?"

He dragged me out of the room, stepping over Haven's unconscious body as if he were nothing more than trash on the sidewalk. He threw me into the back of his armored SUV with enough force to knock the wind out of me.

"Drive," he ordered the driver.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice trembling so hard the words barely formed.

"Home," he said, staring straight ahead. "But we aren't going to the house. We're going to the clinic."

"Why?"

"Chastity is hemorrhaging," he said. His voice was devoid of emotion, completely detached and clinical. "The stress of your little stunt caused complications. She's losing blood."

I stared at his profile, horrified. "What does that have to do with me?"

"She has a rare blood type, Annis. B-negative." He finally looked at me then, his eyes empty. "Just like you."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, erratic rhythm. It wasn't just fear. It was the arrhythmia I had lived with since childhood. A condition Dominick knew about. A condition that made giving blood dangerous, potentially fatal.

"I can't," I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest. "You know I can't. My heart... Dr. Evans said my iron levels are too low. It could trigger a cardiac event."

Dominick looked at me. He didn't see a wife. He didn't even see a human being. He saw a spare part.

"She is carrying my son," he said coldly. "You will give her whatever she needs."

We arrived at the private family clinic minutes later. It smelled of antiseptic and old money. They dragged me into a prep room. Chastity was in the next room, wailing about pain, though her voice sounded strong enough to me.

The family doctor, Dr. Evans, looked pale when Dominick shoved me into the chair.

"Mr. Reyes," he stammered, looking between us. "Mrs. Reyes's chart... her heart condition. A transfusion of this magnitude is risky. She could go into shock."

"Do it," Dominick commanded.

I grabbed Dominick's arm, my fingers desperate.

"If I do this," I said, my voice shaking. "If I save your mistress and your bastard... you let me go."

Dominick looked down at me. He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips.

"You're in no position to bargain, Annis. But fine. Give the blood, and we'll discuss your vacation."

He was lying. I knew he was lying. But I had no choice.

The nurse inserted the needle. I watched my dark red blood flow through the tube, leaving me to sustain the woman who had destroyed my life.

I felt the cold creep in immediately. My chest felt heavy, like a stone was sitting on my sternum, crushing the air out of my lungs.

"Slow down the draw," Dr. Evans warned, his eyes on the monitors. "Her pulse is dropping."

"Keep going," Dominick said from the doorway. He was watching the monitor in Chastity's room, not me.

The room started to spin. Grey spots danced in my vision, obscuring the harsh fluorescent lights. My heart fluttered-a bird trapped in a cage, beating its wings against the bars in a panic.

"Dominick," I whispered, my head feeling impossibly heavy. "I... I don't feel good."

He didn't turn around.

"Chastity's stats are stabilizing," a nurse called out from the other room.

"Good," Dominick said.

My head lolled back against the chair. The beeping of my heart monitor grew erratic. Fast. Then slow. Then painfully slow.

"Mr. Reyes!" the doctor shouted, panic rising in his voice. "She's crashing!"

I saw Dominick turn then. I saw a flicker of annoyance on his face, as if my dying was merely an inconvenience to his evening.

"Stop the draw!" the doctor yelled.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was Dominick walking out of the room to go hold Chastity's hand.

I closed my eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I hoped I wouldn't wake up.