Damian

The rain blurred the lights of the train station. Mark clutched his ticket to another city and a fresh ultrasound form. He was pregnant by his ex-boyfriend, the mobster Damian. Mark remembered his cold words all too well: "Children are a target. I will never have them." It was this fear that had led Mark to flee and secretly raise the child. But on the dark street near the train station, a black minivan blocked the road. The attackers—Damian's main enemies—took him into restraints. They pressed a cloth soaked in chloroform to his face. Mark lost consciousness, realizing that Damian didn't even know he'd escaped, meaning no one would come to his aid. Mark woke to a sharp pain in the back of his head. He was lying on a bed in a huge, luxurious apartment with panoramic windows that overlooked the entire city at night. He sat up abruptly and pressed his palms to his stomach in panic. The baby was fine. His backpack and the same crumpled ultrasound form lay on the bedside table. In the armchair opposite, in the semi-darkness, sat an unfamiliar man in an expensive suit, leisurely smoking a cigarette. It was the leader of the enemy syndicate. He turned his gaze to Mark and smiled predatorily. “You’re finally awake, little birdie,” the stranger said hoarsely, nodding at the medical form. “Your ex-boyfriend Damian thinks you simply skipped town after your death. He has no idea you’re here. And he certainly doesn’t know what a priceless gift you brought me.” Mark swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling a chill run down his spine. He was left alone against his enemies, without protection or hope of rescue.