Falling With Grace

This was a mistake.

I shouldn’t have allowed her to leave the shed. Maybe I should have let Javier have his moment with her.

Where is she?

I glanced around the room with a focused glare.

Vase.

Dresser…

I hurried to the dresser and yanked open the drawers. Her underwear lay folded as if they had been placed there mere moments ago.

Closet.

I marched to the closet, swung open the door to the dark room, and then flicked on the light before stepping inside. Swiping the clothes to the side, the metal hangers scraped with a metallic shrill as they moved.

She escaped somehow.

Exiting the closet, I strode toward the bedroom door.

She won’t get far.

A liquefied drop of red clashed against the marbled floor beside the door, causing me to freeze mid-reach for the handle.

Blood?

I scanned the floor.

Another drop followed by yet another.

How did I not see this?

“Grace?”

Quick exhales dried my lips, and my pulse raced in my throat as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

I flicked my tongue across my lips and followed the trail of blood. “Are you in here?”

A hushed moan drifted like a whisper from the bed, causing my heart to thunder.

Dropping to my knees, my hand braced against the mattress, I flipped the comforter up and peered beneath.

There on the opposite side of the bed, lying on her side in the fetal position, was Grace, her hands clamped tight around her belly.

Did my men do this?

Did she have a wound from before that she hid well?

Did it open up?

“Grace?”

Her perfect green eyes, rimmed with angry red veins, flicked to mine.

I rushed to the other side of the bed, falling to my knees beside her. “What happened?” My hands hovered above her, her brows pulled tight. “Did someone do this to you?”

Was she crying?