His limbs were heavy. His body ached, and the tang of morning sickness still lingered in his mouth. It wasn’t morning, though. The streetlamps shone down on him, raindrops needling into his side.
Take the night off, Wyatt had said. I’ll handle it.
Wyatt was pregnant, too, but he was in a far better position to handle the kitchen’s demands. Twice tonight, Sam had nicked his fingers with the knife, and he’d banged his head once in the pantry. He’d puked a couple times, too, his stomach roiling with nausea.
It took so much energy, just lifting his feet. He’d forgotten this part of being pregnant.
And it was so terribly lonely, huddling in the rain by himself.
He staggered to his car, wincing at the shadows around. Five seconds out of the kitchen, and his clothes had plastered against his body, rain soaking into his shoes. He fumbled for his keys.
A shadow peeled away from the car. Steel glinted.
“Hand over your wallet,” the shadow said.
It was a person in a hooded raincoat, broad-shouldered, probably an alpha.
Sam froze, his pulse thudding in his throat. He couldn’t outrun the robber. He didn’t have the strength. What if he fell? What if the robber killed him?
He slid his hand over his belly. Didn’t even think about it. Except the robber angled his butterfly knife down to point at Sam’s abdomen.
Sam’s ears rung. Not the baby.
“Wallet,” the robber said.
Sam trembled, pulling out his wallet. Couldn’t speak. Wasn’t sure if his phone was still working—there was water everywhere.
The alpha grabbed the wallet. Riffled through it, his face hidden in the shadows. Sam eyed that butterfly knife, wondering if it was a cheap knockoff, or one of those illegal tendon-severing weapons.
He took a jerking step back. The alpha glanced up at him, and the knife gleamed wetly.
Sam dug his fingers into his belly, his instincts screaming Run. Just a few steps to the kitchen.
But what if he turned, and the robber stabbed him?
The seconds dragged by. Sam’s breath hissed between his teeth. The robber flicked Sam’s cards out into the rain. His driver’s license. His insurance card.
Then the robber slid another card from the wallet, a card that was all brushed steel, Sam’s full name stamped neatly across it.
He held his breath.
A couple days back, he’d finally opened that envelope in the mail. Found the credit card Harris had signed for. It had been exquisite, the fine lines across its surface catching against Sam’s fingertips. Sam had admired it—he’d never had a metal credit card in his life. He’d put it in his wallet just for emergencies.
The robber whistled, then tucked the wallet into his coat. Stepped forward, swiped at Sam with his knife.
Sam cried out, stumbling backward. His feet caught on each other; the knife missed his fingers by inches. Then he fell, and a sick, swooping feeling shot down his spine.
I’m falling. I’m losing the baby.
He twisted, flailing. Scraped his palms as he hit the asphalt, pain shooting up his tailbone.
The baby. He touched his belly, expecting pain, or blood. His palms throbbed. His mind had gone blank.
The robber splashed in the distance, but Sam didn’t care. He couldn’t think. The baby was fine. It had to be.
He sat in the parking lot next to the car, raindrops pattering down his face. Pulled up his shirt to look at his belly—no injuries. There had been a bruise when he’d fallen that time.
The baby is fine.
Sam caught his breath, his hands shaking. He clenched them into fists. Picked up his driver’s license and insurance card. Rolled onto his feet, feeling sore all over.
With unsteady fingers, he pulled out his car keys. Unlocked the car, flopped in, and locked the doors behind him.
I’ve never seen a robber here before. He took everything. He took Harris’ card.
His stomach twisted. After Harris had trusted him with that card, Sam had gone and lost it. You idiot!
His phone still worked. He left wet fingerprints on the phone, trying to open his contacts folder. Then he tapped on Harris’ name, listening to the dial tone. His pulse thudded.
“Sam?” Harris rumbled across the line.
“H-Harris?” Sam froze. Didn’t know how he was going to tell Harris.
“What’s wrong?” Harris asked, his voice sharp.
Sam flinched, closed his eyes. Couldn’t decide if he wanted to sink into Harris’ voice, or be afraid of him. “I... I lost your card.”
“What happened?” Harris asked, his tone gentler.
“S-someone took it.” Sam wasn’t sure Harris wanted to know about the baby. It was fine. As far as Harris was concerned, nothing had happened to it. “Please—please cancel it. I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?” Harris asked.
Sam choked, tears welling up in his eyes. He hadn’t expected Harris to be concerned about him. “I-I guess. I d-don’t know.”
“Sam,” Harris said. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“Someone robbed me.” Sam cringed. The cold from the rain seeped into his bones, and his teeth began to chatter. “T-took my wallet. I don’t want him to use your card. Please cancel it.”
“What the fuck. Where are you? Did this just happen?”
“Y-yeah. I just—Just now. He’s gone. I...” Hard to even get the words out. “I’m at the drive-in.”
“Fuck the card,” Harris said. “I’m coming to get you.”
In the background, Valen asked, “What happened?”
“Someone robbed Sam,” Harris told him. Valen snarled.
“It’s f-fine,” Sam said. “I’m l-leaving anyway. I’ll be there s-soon. I’m off work.”
Harris paused. Then he said, “Fine. But if you aren’t here in twenty, I’m coming to get you.”
“Me too,” Valen said.
Like hell Sam was staying in the parking lot. He ended the call, then tapped on Wyatt’s number. Left a voice message.
He pulled up his shirt to dry his tears, but it was soaked.
Sam started the car, blinking the tears out of his eyes. He could do this. He could get home, even if his limbs felt like jelly right now.
At least he was going back to Harris’ mansion. This past weekend, Valen and Harris had come to Sam’s apartment to help him
