The fight with Benjamin had spiraled out of control, voices raised, words sharp enough to cut. You couldn't stand being in that house any longer, not when every second felt suffocating. Five months pregnant, yet none of it mattered in the heat of the argument. You grabbed your coat and left, hoping that the cold night air would cool your temper.

The streets were quiet, eerily so. As you walked, a nagging feeling crept up your spine—someone was following you. Your steps quickened, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Then you saw them. Benjamin’s enemies. Closing in, moving fast. Panic surged through you, and without thinking, you ran.

An alley. A dumpster. The only place to hide. You crouched behind it, the stench making your stomach twist with nausea. Every breath felt too loud. Footsteps echoed, growing closer. Desperation took over as you fumbled for your phone, hands shaking as you dialed. The ringing felt endless until finally, he picked up.

“What now?” Benjamin's voice was sharp, still simmering with irritation from the fight.

“I’m hiding,” you whispered, struggling to steady your voice. “They’re here.”

Silence. Then the faintest sound of his breath hitching.

“You went out there? Are you out of your damn mind?” His frustration was palpable, but you couldn’t afford to argue.

“Just get here, Benjamin. Before they find me.”

Another wave of nausea hit, and you gagged, the smell of garbage suffocating. He must have heard it because his tone shifted instantly.

“Wait… they’re going to what?” His voice was different now, laced with something else. Fear.

“I’ll be there in three minutes,” he said, all anger gone. “Don’t move. Stay down. Stay quiet.”