Chapter 174: 175 - little thief
175
~Lisa’s POV
I dreamed I was running. My feet pounded against the soft, wet earth, sinking slightly with every step. The bush around me was thick, twisted, and unyielding, tearing at my clothes, snagging at my hair. My chest heaved as I struggled to draw in air, each breath sharp and ragged. My stomach ached, not just from the baby, but from pure, raw fear. I could feel her presence behind me. I knew she was coming.
"You think you can steal my place? My men? My life? You think you deserve this?"
Her voice cut through the forest like a blade. Sharp, cruel, and full of venom, it echoed in my ears and made my legs tremble. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind was too focused on survival, on running, on keeping this small spark of life inside me safe.
I pushed myself harder, my hands brushing against the branches, clawing through leaves that scratched my arms and face. My hair stuck to my damp forehead, sweat mingling with the grime and blood from a small cut I didn’t even feel until it stung. My breaths came fast, sharp, shallow. My legs screamed in protest, every muscle burning with effort, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t fall behind.
She was relentless. I could hear her laughter, cruel and satisfied, floating through the trees. It made my heart pound harder, made the baby inside me kick wildly. "You can’t hide from me, Lisa!" the voice shouted. "You don’t deserve anything you have!"
I stumbled over a hidden root, my body pitching forward. Pain exploded in my knee, my hip, my ribs, and I cried out, though it was swallowed by the thick forest. I scrambled, trying to push myself upright, my hands shaking, my fingers scraping against rocks and roots. My stomach tightened painfully as the baby shifted. I gasped, clutching my belly, tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t stop.
Branches tore at my clothes and skin as I scrambled through the undergrowth. Every step felt like a fight with the earth itself, the mud sucking at my heels. My breaths were coming in ragged sobs now, my lungs burning. Behind me, I could hear her getting closer. The sound of her boots crunching over leaves, the snapping of branches, the hiss of her voice, relentless, merciless.
"You think you can escape me? You little thief! This ends now!"
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. My throat burned, my lungs were on fire, but I ran anyway. I ran for my life, for the baby, for the hope that I might somehow survive this nightmare. Every fiber of my being screamed to stop, to fall down, to let it end, but my legs didn’t listen. My heart beat so fast, so violently, that I was sure it would break inside my chest.
Suddenly, my foot caught on a thick root hidden beneath the leaves. Pain shot through my ankle, radiated up my knee, and stabbed into my side. I fell forward, my hands scraping against the rough earth, twigs piercing my skin. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, but it was swallowed by the dense bush around me. My breath came fast and shallow, my chest heaving as I struggled to push myself up. The mud beneath my palms was slick, refusing to give me traction. My body trembled, weak from the pregnancy and exhaustion, and I felt a wave of hopelessness threaten to overwhelm me.
And then I heard it, her laughter. Sharp, cruel, victorious. It sent shivers down my spine and made my heart thump violently in my chest. Each step she took was deliberate, confident, as though she knew there was no way I could escape.
"Got you now, little thief," her voice hissed, dripping with malice.
I forced my head up, blinking through tears and sweat, and there she was. Belinda. My stomach dropped. Her eyes were wild, filled with a hatred that seemed almost tangible. Her lips curled into a cruel sneer, and the cutlass in her hand gleamed menacingly, catching the dim light that filtered through the dense canopy above. The cold metal glinted, reflecting my fear back at me, and my chest tightened, my breath caught in my throat.
I tried to move, to scramble backward, but my body refused to respond. My legs were heavy, my strength sapped, and the panic rising in me was paralyzing. My mind screamed at me to run, to fight, to do anything, but it was like my body had betrayed me.
"No! Please!" I yelled, my voice raw, breaking under the weight of terror. But even as I cried out, the sound was a mere whisper against the thundering of my own heartbeat.
Belinda stepped closer, her movements slow, deliberate, almost savoring my fear. Each step seemed to echo through the trees, mocking me, telling me that I had no hope of escape. Her eyes locked on mine, unyielding, merciless.
"This is where it ends," she snarled, raising the cutlass higher, her arm steady, her intention clear. The tip of the blade shimmered, sharp and cold.
I tried to roll away, tried to crawl, but my legs felt like lead, refusing to obey me. My body trembled uncontrollably, and panic surged through every fiber of my being. My stomach ached sharply, not just from the weight of the baby, but from the terror that gripped me. My breaths came in short, ragged gasps, each one painfully shallow, my chest heaving as if I had run for hours. My hands clawed at the sheets, seeking some anchor, some grip, but it was useless.
The cutlass hovered above me in my mind’s eye, its cold edge inches from my face, glinting in the dim forest light of my nightmare. I could feel the chill of the air, it sliced through, cutting closer and closer, and I knew there was no escape. The sound of Belinda’s laughter echoed in my ears, mocking me, confirming my helplessness. My heart hammered violently in my chest, thundering so loud that it drowned out all other sound.
And then, everything stopped. The forest, the fear, the steel descending, I was ripped out of it all.
I woke.
I screamed, a raw, high-pitched sound that tore itself from my throat. My body convulsed with trembling, sweat soaking my sheets, dripping down my hair and face, clinging to my skin like icy fingers. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst through my ribs, every beat a sharp reminder of how close I had felt to death. My chest rose and fell rapidly, ragged gasps breaking through as I tried to calm myself.
I clutched my stomach instinctively, pressing my hands over my abdomen as if I could shield my baby from the terror I had felt. I felt it shift, the tiny flutters jarring against my touch, and a fresh wave of fear and guilt washed over me. "I... I’m fine... I’m fine..." I whispered, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.
"Lisa! Lisa!"
The shout broke through the haze of panic, sharp and panicked, carrying a weight of urgency that made me flinch. Damon’s voice. My eyes snapped open, and I saw him leaning over me, his expression carved with worry, his brows drawn tight, eyes dark with fear and something sharper, anger, maybe even guilt. His hands were on either side of me, steadying, holding me as if he could keep me from sinking back into the nightmare.
"What’s wrong? What happened?" His voice cracked, tense and strained, desperate for an answer, for a reason that could make this all make sense.