Reckless Hearts

Chapter 38

You weren't quite sure how long you blacked out for. You weren't sure what woke you. Whether it was your body bouncing around on the back of the horse, the cramps in your stomach, or the interminable noise of the horses hooves on cobble.

The horse you were tied to, had now slowed to a trot. You assumed that you were in a large town. Where, was beyond you. It wasn't Rhodes or Valentine. All the streets there were dust, not cobbles, and there were no street lamps. It was dark, so you couldn't see much, although the lamps did show you that you were in a higher class end of town. Although from you current position you couldn't see much.

You wondered if anyone would know of your plight, surely it would seem odd to someone that you were tied up, on the back of a horse.

The horse finally stopped, and the man hauled you off. Someone opened some double metal gates, that quick shut, with a resounding clang.

You were carried into a large house, and then chucked on the floor. You groaned as your body his the floor, solid marble, harder than concrete it seemed to you.

Cramps in your stomach had started to worsen.

A man approached you, taking out a knife he cut the ropes around your ankles, and dragged you to your feet.

He grabbed you by your shirt.

The man who had brought you from the Braithwaites, yelled at the man.

"Attento. è incinta. I ragazzi idioti di Braithwaite l'hanno irritata un po '."

The man who had grabbed you, loosened his grip slightly, as he rolled his eyes.

You looked around trying to take in your surroundings and possibly a means of escape. You looked towards a plush staircase. A well dressed man stood at the top of the stairs. By his whole demeanor, you could tell he was the boss. Possibly Signor Bronte himself.

"È questa la donna van der linde?" He asked, the man who was holding you.

"Sì, signor Bronte. È incinta del bastardo di Van Der Linde. I ragazzi braithwaite l'hanno maltrattata. Si è lamentata del mal di stomaco." the man replied.

Bronte came down the stairs, "I'm sorry miss, we'll try and make your stay here as pleasant as possible."

His accent was very thick, you imagined that they had been speaking italian, a language you didnt understand. You felt like spitting in his eye, but given your current predicament you decided not to do anything rash.

Bronte looked at the man, who was still holding you by the shirt.

"metterla in una delle camere da letto, delicatamente. e togli le corde dai polsi."

The man removed his hand from your shirt, and grabbed your arm, leading you up the stairs.

There were loads of doors upstairs, he open one of them. It was a large bedroom. He sat you on the bed, and cut the ropes on your wrists.

You bent over and gripped your stomach, the pains were getting worse.

The man frowned, "you should rest, signora," he suggested, in a thick european accent.

You watched as he walked from the room, closing the door behind him. You heard the click, as the door was locked.

You laid down on the bed, praying that your baby was going to be ok.

You couldn't sleep. The pain in your stomach, came in waves and was too great.

Eventually you watched the sunrise through the window. You just lay there, hoping that the pain would go.

You heard the door click. You closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You heard footsteps, someone put something down on the table, then you heard the footsteps receding then the sound of the door closing then a click, as it locked again.

You kept your eyes closed for a few more moments, just to make sure that whoever it was, wasnt still in the room.

When you opened your eyes, the room was empty. But there was a tray on the table, filled with a variety of food.

You were in no mood to eat. You just hoped that Dutch had realised you were missing.

You laid there and focussed on your breathing, the way Dutch had taught you, to try and help with the pain. It worked somewhat, but you kept losing the focus thinking about your baby, and if it was going to be ok.

The room began to dim, as the sun began to set.

You once again heard the click of a lock, and the door opened.

The man that had dragged you up here stood there.

"You can go," he stated.

You sat up, and hissed, as a shaft of pain went through your stomach and back.

He grabbed your arm and helped you up.

After leaving the room, he guided you to the stairs. Once downstairs he let go of your arm. One of the doors opened in the downstairs hallway.

Dutch emerged from the room. As you saw him you sobbed, and he rushed towards you, wrapping his arms around you. His hand on the back of your head, pressing it to his chest.

"It's ok baby girl, I'm here now. Lets go home," he soothed.

He helped you outside and through the big double gates, which one of Bronte's men closed behind you.

You suddenly doubled over as another wave of pain hit you.

Dutch rubbed your back, "Are you ok? Are you hurt?" he asked, slightly panicked.

He looked you over. "Oh my god, baby girl, you're bleeding!"

You looked him in the face, "Oh Dutch, I think I'm losing our baby," you sobbed.

Dutch looked down the street and yelled.

"Arthur, get over here!"

You looked into the distance and saw Arthur and John riding towards you.

"I need to get Kara to a doctor!" he exclaimed.

Arthur looked down at your blood soaked jeans, "Oh shit," he mumbled.

He quickly jumped off his horse, holding onto you, whilst Dutch mounted the count.

Arthur gently lifted you up and handed you to Dutch. You lay bridal style in his arms perched in front of him.

Arthur quickly mounted up, he looked at John.

"Go back to camp, let them know we've got Kara, and get moving to the new place,"

John nodded, and quickly left.

Arthur looked at Dutch, "follow me, I know where there's a doctor!"

He pushed his horse on, and Dutch followed.

"Don't worry baby girl, its gonna be ok," he soothed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Tears ran down your cheeks, you didnt think it was going to be ok at all.