Chapter 151

• Agony tore through my lower belly like a rusty, dull saw, grinding me up from the inside.
• I gulped for air. Huge beads of cold sweat rolled down and splattered on the marble. Warm amniotic fluid mixed with bright, blinding blood, soaking an expensive Persian rug into a wide, dark red stain.
• Staring at that murky pool, Oliver, limp on the floor, suddenly looked wired, like someone jabbed him with a needle of adrenaline. He burst into a hoarse, deranged laugh.