Sam was trying her best to stay calm, but the sudden tightness across her stomach made her double over in her chair, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the table.

Patricia noticed immediately, her fork clattering to her plate. "Sam?!"

Sam gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as another wave of pain hit. "It—It hurts...!"

Sally practically jumped to her feet, rushing to her side. "Oh my god, she's having contractions—Patty, come on, we gotta help her!"

Without a second thought, the two girls each took one of Sam's arms, helping her stand. Sam winced, biting her lip so hard it nearly bled, her legs shaky under her weight.

"It's okay, we got you," Sally whispered hurriedly, her voice shaky but determined. "Bathroom's closer—come on, just breathe, Sam, breathe."

The three stumbled awkwardly through the restaurant toward the bathrooms, ignoring the few stares they got along the way. Sam could barely focus, her mind spinning from fear, pain, and panic all at once.

Once inside the cramped bathroom, Patricia locked the door behind them, heart pounding, while Sally helped Sam sit carefully on the small, cushioned bench near the sinks.

Patricia knelt in front of her, trying to steady her own nerves as she reached for Sam's hands. "Okay, okay... you're okay. You're okay. We just gotta breathe with you, alright?"

Sally nodded quickly, crouching beside her, gently wiping Sam's sweaty hair out of her face. "You're safe here. You're safe. Just focus on us. Breathe in with me—okay? One, two, three—breathe in..."

Sam shakily tried to mimic them, her breath hitching as another contraction rolled through her abdomen like a wave of agony. She whimpered, clutching tightly onto their hands.

"It's too early... it's too early," she whispered brokenly. Tears were streaming down her face now, her body trembling. "I can't do this... I can't do this..."

"You can," Sally said fiercely, gripping her hand tighter. "You're the strongest girl I know, Sam. We'll get you through this. I promise."

Patricia looked up at Sally, panic flashing in her eyes. "We need help. Real help. She's not due yet, it's too soon—"

"I know!" Sally said, almost in a sob. "But we can't take her to a hospital. Nate's watching—what if they find her?!"

Patricia shook her head, looking back to Sam, who was still crying softly, cradling her stomach. "Then we have to call Emcee. We have to. He'll know what to do."

Sam leaned into Sally's shoulder, trembling violently, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm scared..."

Sally wrapped both arms around her, rocking her gently. "I know, baby, I know. We're right here. We're not going anywhere."

Patricia fumbled with her phone, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it.

"I'm calling him," she said, her voice cracking. "Hang on, Sam. Just hang on a little longer..."

The bathroom was filled with the sound of their hushed reassurances, their broken promises, and Sam's quiet sobs.

Outside the bathroom, the restaurant was oddly quiet for a few moments — just the clinking of glasses and the occasional murmur of conversation. Heat was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his hands tugging through his hair, worry carved into every line of his face.

Sister Bowles, however, was leaning against the wall with a sly little smile, watching him like a lion watches a steak.
She gave a little cough, then casually said, "You know... for a big, angry man, you're awfully handsome when you're worried."

Heat froze mid-pace, blinking at her like a deer in headlights.
"...What?"

Sister Bowles grinned, stepping closer, hands clasped behind her back like an innocent schoolgirl. "It's true! All that anger and... those muscles." She gave a playful little wiggle of her eyebrows. "You could carry me into battle anytime, cowboy."

Heat's face turned bright red.
"I—I'm not—this isn't the time—!" he sputtered, stumbling over his own words.

At that exact moment, Sally and Patricia pushed open the bathroom door, supporting Sam between them. Sam looked completely exhausted, still pale and trembling as she leaned heavily into their sides.

The three girls took one look at the scene before them—Sister Bowles practically flirting up a storm and Heat standing there like he'd been slapped with a frying pan—and just stared.

Sally was the first to speak, deadpan.
"...The fuck is going on out here?"

Patricia, equally stunned, mumbled, "Did we miss a whole-ass romantic comedy while we were gone?"

Sam just blinked slowly, confused and miserable, before whispering hoarsely,
"Why is everything so weird all the time?"

Heat, looking absolutely mortified, snapped his attention back to Sam, immediately rushing to her side.
"Forget that! Are you okay?! What do we do?! Where do we go?! Should we run? Fight? Cry? — I'll do all three—"

Sister Bowles giggled behind him, totally unbothered, and added sweetly,
"I vote for carrying the pregnant maiden into the sunset, big guy."

Heat visibly short-circuited, making a strange noise like a microwave breaking.

Meanwhile, Sally and Patricia exchanged looks like: We are so fucking doomed.

"Okay," Sally said, clapping her hands together sarcastically. "New plan: Survive the weird flirting, survive Nate, survive Sam going into labor, survive whatever fever dream we're living in."

Patricia nodded solemnly. "Solid plan."

Sam, despite everything, let out a tiny, exhausted laugh, still clutching her stomach.

Heat cleared his throat aggressively, trying to ignore Sister Bowles winking at him from behind Sam's back.

"...Let's just get out of here," he grumbled, scooping Sam up effortlessly into his arms like a true knight in moderately disheveled armor.

Sister Bowles followed after them, humming a little romantic tune under her breath, while Sally and Patricia dragged their hands down their faces in despair.

The inside of Heat's house smelled faintly of motor oil, leather, and something freshly baked — probably leftover from the last time he actually cooked.
The walls were practically covered in racing posters, gleaming trophies, photos of Heat with his arm slung around various muscle cars, motorcycles, and (for some reason) a suspiciously large number of autographed hats.

Sister Bowles whistled low, impressed.
"Big boy's got a big... ego."

Heat ignored her, setting Sam carefully on the couch, fussing like a worried mother hen.

Sally and Patricia stood awkwardly by the door, looking around at all the gear.
Patricia poked a signed racing jacket hanging from the wall. "Is this... fireproof?"

"Probably," Emcee said, squinting at a picture of Heat with a flaming car in the background. "Or maybe not."

Before Sam could even settle in, there was a loud CRASH from the hallway — and then two figures barreled into the living room.

"SAAMMM!"
It was Molly—rushing at her like a speeding bullet, arms wide, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
Joey was close behind her, his face lighting up the moment he saw her.

Sam barely had time to sit up before Molly tackled her into a hug, squeezing tight enough to make Sam squeak.
"You're alive! You're alive! Oh my god, I thought I'd never see you again! I thought—I thought—!" Molly's words dissolved into ugly, hiccuping sobs as she clung to Sam like she'd never let go again.

Joey knelt next to them, grinning from ear to ear, rubbing Sam's back with gentle, comforting hands.
"Man, you gave us the scare of a lifetime, you little turd," he said warmly.

Sam felt herself shaking under their touch. The warmth, the love — it was too much.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She couldn't lie to them.
Not anymore.

"I—" she croaked out, barely above a whisper.

Everyone leaned in, sensing something heavy was coming.

"I...I'm pregnant."

There was a long, stunned silence.

At first, Molly gasped — then shrieked — then clapped her hands to her mouth, tears sparkling in her eyes again, but this time with overwhelming happiness.
"A BABY?! OH MY GOD, SAM, A BABYYYY—"

SLAP.
The sharp sound echoed through the room.

Sister Bowles had smacked Molly upside the head so hard her teeth rattled.
"YOU IDIOT!!" she barked, furious. "IT'S NATE'S BABY!!"

Molly's smile instantly shattered, like a window hit by a baseball.
Her whole face crumbled as the weight of those words hit her, and she stumbled back a step, staring at Sam like she couldn't recognize her.

Joey caught her by the shoulders, but he looked just as shaken.

"You mean—" Molly whispered, voice cracking. "You mean... he...?"

Sam started sobbing, finally unable to hold it back.
"Yes..." she choked out, "he—he—he did this to me..."

Molly dropped to her knees right in front of her, hands trembling as she touched Sam's belly, then Sam's tearstained face.

"Oh, Sammy," she whispered brokenly, voice shaking with devastation. "Oh my god... my poor baby girl..."

Heat stood like a statue behind them, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
Sister Bowles looked murderous, arms crossed and jaw tight.
Sally and Patricia just looked at each other helplessly, fighting back tears.

Emcee pulled his hat lower over his face to hide the storm in his eyes.

It felt like the whole room was about to explode from grief and anger.

And Sam...
Sam just sat there, cradled between the people she loved most, wondering if she would ever feel whole again.

Sam let out a strangled gasp, clutching her stomach as another contraction ripped through her small body.
She leaned over the couch and vomited violently onto the wooden floor with a wet splatter.

"Sammy!" Molly shrieked in panic, immediately trying to hold her up.
Joey grabbed a rag from the kitchen.
Heat was already crouched next to her, hands trembling as he rubbed her back.
Sally and Patricia ran to find water.
Sister Bowles barked orders like a drill sergeant, taking charge.

"Deep breaths, Sam, deep breaths," she ordered, wiping Sam's forehead with a cool cloth.

Sam sobbed into the couch, hiccupping, trembling so bad it shook her whole frame.
The pain was horrible. The fear was worse.

"I can't...I can't...I can't do this..." she whimpered.

"You can, honey," Bowles said firmly. "You're strong. You survived worse than this."

"You're not alone, Sammy," Molly whispered, pressing her forehead to Sam's. "We're right here."

"Got ya a bucket," Joey said, handing over a clean one just in case. "Annnnnd a mystery sucker from the glove compartment. It's probably from the 90s, but hey — maybe it's lucky?"

That made Sam hiccup-laugh through her tears — a tiny, broken sound, but a sound of life.

"I don't want a rotten sucker," she whined weakly, sniffling.

"I'll eat it then," Joey said dramatically, unwrapping the sad little lollipop and pretending to faint from poison the second it touched his tongue.

Sam giggled, a real, shaky little giggle.
Even Heat cracked a smile at the dumb show Joey put on, sprawling across the floor like he'd been shot.

"There's that pretty smile," Heat said softly, tucking a piece of Sam's hair behind her ear.

Sister Bowles just rolled her eyes and muttered, "Dorks. All of you."

But there was a softness to her voice too. Relief.
Sam was still here.
Still fighting.

Molly kissed Sam's forehead again, whispering, "We'll get you through this, baby girl. I promise."

The room, even filled with the sour smell of sickness and the heavy weight of fear, suddenly felt a little lighter.
They were together.
And together — they'd save her.

The living room turned into a war room — scattered with papers, half-broken furniture, and seven stressed-out people.

Derek slapped a map of the area down on the coffee table.
"Okay. Listen up," he said, still breathing heavy but his mind sharp. "We gotta move fast. We can't risk Nate following us."

Everyone crowded around.

"We're splitting up," Derek continued. "Two cars. Confuse the bastard. If he's watching, he'll think you're somewhere you're not."

"Who's going with Sam?" Molly asked, gripping Sam's hand tightly.

"Me, Derek, Heat, and Sam will take Derek's truck," Sister Bowles said firmly, already deciding. "Bigger, safer, and no one's gonna lay a finger on her with us inside."

Heat nodded, dead serious. "I'm driving."

"Good," Derek said, tapping the map. "We'll take the backroads through Whisper Hollow. It'll take longer, but it's safer."

"And us?" Sally asked.

"You three — Sally, Patricia, and Emcee — you'll take my old Civic," Heat said. "Act like you're in a rush. Make a big scene if you have to. Lead any followers away from the real route."

Patricia cracked her knuckles. "If I spot Nate, I'll make sure he gets a flat tire."

Emcee gave a little laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Let's just make sure it doesn't come to that."

Sam was shaking slightly but listening with wide, alert eyes.
Molly squeezed her hand tighter.
"Sam's with the strongest team," she whispered. "You're gonna be okay."

"We'll stay in constant contact," Derek said, tossing burner phones onto the table. "One call, one word, and we switch the plan if we have to."

Heat crouched beside Sam again, looking into her eyes.
"You ready, sweetheart?"

Sam sniffled, then nodded. "Let's go."

Everyone exchanged quick, tight nods.

Nate sat in the dark of his office, his eyes glued to the monitor, watching the night unfold through the live security feed. His jaw clenched with every passing second as he saw the plan begin to take shape.

He didn't care about the others; they were nothing. The real prize was about to escape him—Sam. His vision blurred with rage, the anticipation of losing his control over her gnawing at him.

But then there was a soft sound behind him. A dancer. The one who always came when he needed a distraction.

"Sister Lila," Nate muttered, barely acknowledging her presence.

Sister Lila, a pale woman with flowing, jet-black hair, crawled onto his desk. She was used to this—being part of his chaos, offering comfort in ways that kept him from focusing on things like the real pain. She'd serviced him many times before, yet tonight felt different. She kissed his neck, but instead of basking in it, Nate grew tense, his hands curled into fists.

"Don't bother me right now," he snapped, his voice sharp, eyes still fixed on the screen.

Lila paused, hurt flashing across her eyes. "Master Nate...?"

Without warning, he shoved her off him, sending her sprawling onto the floor. The sound of her shocked gasp cut through the room, but Nate didn't care. His rage was all-consuming, suffocating everything else in its path.

"I told you, don't bother me!" Nate growled, his eyes wild, scanning the screens again.

Lila, still kneeling on the floor, looked up at him. There was fear, but also a trace of betrayal. "Master, please..."

He gave a bitter laugh, a dark chuckle that vibrated with madness. "You're just a distraction. All of you are," he hissed, slamming his fist onto the desk.

She stood up slowly, clearly hurt but trying to hide it. She wiped away a tear, her voice soft but steady. "I've given you everything, Nate. Don't make me regret it."

Nate didn't look at her. His attention was solely on the feed of the cars leaving, his fingers gripping the desk hard enough to leave marks in the wood.

"They're trying to run," he growled, lips curling into a sneer. "But they don't know what's coming. I won't let her get away. Sam's mine, and if I have to destroy everything to make her see that, I will."

Sister Lila stood there for a moment, glancing at the screen, then back at Nate. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to say something more, but she knew better than to argue with him now. Instead, she walked silently to the door.

Nate's mind churned with plans, his pulse quickening as he considered what he would do next. The tracker in her car would lead him straight to her. He'd finish this. Tonight.

"Goodbye, Lila," he muttered coldly as he began to gather his things. "You're not important anymore."

He glanced once more at the screen, the hunt lighting a fire in his eyes. He was going to get his girl. And once he did, nothing would stop him from having her, body and soul.

Nate's fury was palpable as he stormed through the dimly lit corridors of the club, his footsteps echoing in the silence. His heart raced with the anticipation of finally taking control, and his mind burned with one singular thought: Sam would be his again. Nothing, and no one, could stand in his way.

His fingers clenched tightly around his phone, and he dialed the number of his trusted guards, his voice low but dangerous. "Get in position. I want them stopped before they leave the city. No one gets past you, understood?"

The line crackled before a rough voice responded, "Understood, sir. We'll handle it."

Nate didn't waste any more time. His thoughts were clear now. He was going to end this chase and claim what he believed was rightfully his. He reached the back exit of the club and saw his sleek, black car waiting for him. Without hesitation, he jumped in, slamming the door behind him.

As he revved the engine, the screech of tires against pavement echoed in the night air. He raced down the empty streets, eyes focused on the road ahead. But his mind was elsewhere—on Sam, on how she would finally realize that she had no way out.

The guards were already in place. They had been tracking the cars that had left earlier. Nate's orders were clear. They were to surround the others, cut off any escape routes, and force them to turn back. His eyes narrowed in determination. No one escapes from me.

The engines roared as Emcee slammed his foot down on the accelerator, the car screeching down the street in a blur of headlights and tires burning rubber. His face was a mask of concentration, hands gripping the wheel as though his life depended on it—and it did. Behind him, a black SUV filled with Nate's guards was hot on his tail, closing the gap with every turn.

Sally and Patricia, who were seated in the back of Emcee's car, were trying to hold on to whatever sanity they had left. But instead of panic, they were getting very excited. They were ready for some serious action.

Sally leaned forward, peering into the backseat. "Yo, you got any weapons back there, Emcee?" she asked, her voice a little too enthusiastic for the situation.

Emcee glanced in the rearview mirror, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, you bet I do," he said, giving the wheel a quick turn to dodge an incoming car. "But they're not exactly... legal."

Patricia, who had been nervously chewing on her nail, froze when she saw a suspicious-looking duffle bag in the backseat. "Wait, are those... are those real guns?" She pointed at the bag, her eyes wide.

Sally's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Is that what I think it is?" She quickly opened the duffle bag with a grin plastered on her face. "Oh, hell yeah!"

Inside, there were all kinds of weapons: handguns, shotguns, even a rocket launcher tucked under a blanket. But it wasn't the big stuff that caught their attention. No, it was the toys.

A few sets of throwing knives, a crossbow with a quiver full of arrows, and—Sally's personal favorite—a pair of nunchucks. "I've always wanted to try these out!" she said, grabbing them like a pro, spinning them in her hands with a flourish.

"Wait, are we seriously going to use these?" Patricia asked, now wide-eyed but fully on board for the chaos. She grabbed a small handgun and held it out in front of her. "It's not like I know how to use this..."

Emcee, eyes still locked on the road, grinned. "You're about to get a crash course in 'Weapons 101.' Don't worry, I'm not just a pretty face."

The SUV tailing them got dangerously close, the guards leaning out of their windows, aiming guns. Emcee swerved left, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with another car.

"Buckle up, ladies!" Emcee yelled, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. "This is gonna get bumpy!"

Sally leaned out of her window, one nunchuck spinning above her head like she was about to take on a gang of ninjas. "Hold on tight, boys! You're about to get a taste of real power!"

The guards in the SUV responded with a volley of bullets, but Sally was quicker. She swung the nunchucks out of the window, knocking the guns out of the guards' hands like a pro. "And that's how it's done!" she cheered.

Patricia, trying to steady herself with one hand while holding her gun in the other, was about to shout something when Emcee swerved again, sending them into a sharp turn down a narrow alley. The SUV followed, but it didn't stand a chance—one of the guards fell out the window from the wild turn, and he was promptly run over by a stray pedestrian cart.

"Oh my god!" Patricia screamed, covering her eyes for a split second. "What the hell?!"

"Accident," Emcee called back over his shoulder. "They were really close to hitting the sidewalk anyway."

"Right," Sally said, still in full action mode, "so that means we're still in the clear to cause more chaos!" She threw open the side door, aiming the nunchucks out of the window like a weaponized tornado. "Woop, look out, here comes the pain!"

Patricia, growing more and more entertained by the minute, peeked out of the window just in time to see a few guards from the SUV pull out a baton and start swatting at their car. "You guys are pathetic," she muttered under her breath. Then, without any further thought, she popped up and fired—the bullets went wide, but they did the job of scaring the crap out of the guys with the batons.

"That's what you get for messing with us!" Sally shouted, aiming a few perfect throws of her nunchucks, knocking the batons right out of their hands. Then, she swung out of the car window, screaming, "We're the nunchuck brigade, baby!"

"Not helping!" Emcee yelled, narrowly dodging a lamp post and making another hard turn to shake off their pursuers. "Focus on the road!"

The SUV behind them screeched as it tried to follow but slammed into a traffic cone barricade, sending it careening off course into a nearby fountain.

"Looks like that was the last splash for them!" Patricia cheered, watching as the guards scrambled in the chaos.

As the dust began to settle, Emcee let out a deep breath, turning a corner onto a quieter street. The sound of the SUV's engines gradually faded away.

"Alright," Emcee said, finally able to relax. "That was way too much fun. But, uh, I'm not looking to be a criminal mastermind anytime soon, alright?"

Sally and Patricia leaned back in their seats, exhausted but exhilarated. "Oh, I think we're just getting started," Patricia said with a grin.

"Yeah," Sally added. "We might need more nunchucks, though."

Emcee gave them a wry smile. "Whatever happens, let's just make sure we survive this night. And next time, we might need to plan a little better."

Sally looked out of the window, watching the fading lights in the distance. "You know," she said with a smirk, "we really should do this more often."

They all laughed, but Emcee's face turned serious. "You know, I've got a feeling we haven't seen the last of Nate's goons. They're gonna keep coming. And next time? We won't be so lucky."

Sally winked. "Then next time, we're bringing more weapons."

The screeching of tires echoed through the night air as Heat's car barreled down the highway, the engine roaring as it desperately tried to escape the relentless pursuit of Nate. The night had already been full of chaos, but this chase, this was a whole different kind of nightmare. Nate's car, black and sleek, was hot on their tail, tailing them like a predator stalking its prey.

Sam, sitting in the backseat, could feel the weight of her situation pressing down on her chest. She glanced nervously out the window, her breath shaky as the car swerved to avoid oncoming traffic. Molly, clutching her side, was visibly terrified, eyes wide as she stared out the back window, where Nate's car was gaining ground.

"Come on, Heat! Faster!" Derek shouted, his voice rising in panic.

"I'm trying!" Heat shouted back, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. His eyes were locked on the road ahead, but he could feel Nate getting closer with every second.

The sound of Nate's engine revving made Sam's heart skip a beat. Nate wasn't just trying to catch them anymore—he was aiming to destroy them. His car lurched forward, the headlights blinding, closing in on Heat's vehicle.

"Hold on!" Heat yelled as he swerved sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a truck. But Nate followed, undeterred. His car came up beside theirs, and Sam could see him grinning through the window, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Not gonna let you get away this time," Nate shouted through his open window, his voice cutting through the air like a razor.

But just as the moment seemed dire, a sudden movement from the side caught everyone off guard. Joey, who had been eerily quiet this whole time, suddenly threw open the door and jumped out of the car.

"What the hell?!" Molly gasped, her eyes wide in shock.

"No time to explain!" Joey shouted as he rolled onto the ground, sprinting straight towards Nate's car. Before anyone could react, Joey reached the side of Nate's vehicle, grabbed hold of the door handle, and wrenched it open with all his might.

"Joey, are you insane?!" Derek screamed, his heart pounding in his chest.

But Joey was already halfway inside the car, dragging Nate by the collar out of his seat. With a primal roar, Joey slammed Nate's head into the steering wheel, stunning him for a moment. Sam's eyes went wide with disbelief as she watched Joey land brutal blow after brutal blow on Nate.

"You're a monster," Joey spat, his voice low and furious as he landed another punch on Nate's jaw.

Nate, struggling to fight back, swung his arm in a desperate attempt to shove Joey off. But it was too late. In his frantic effort to escape, Nate overcorrected, slamming the car into the concrete median.

The impact was deafening as Nate's car spun out of control, its tires screeching against the asphalt. The car skidded across the road, its headlights flashing wildly before it crashed into the guardrail with a violent thud, coming to a screeching halt.

Heat slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding colliding with Nate's wrecked car. The group watched in stunned silence as the car came to a rest, smoke rising from the hood.

"Damn... Joey just beat the hell out of him," Derek said, his voice filled with disbelief. He looked at Joey, who was now standing beside the wrecked car, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Joey, covered in dirt and with a wild look in his eyes, stood over Nate's incapacitated body. He wiped his hands on his clothes as if he were cleaning himself off. "No one touches Sam... ever again," he muttered under his breath, his eyes dark with rage.

Molly, who had been silent the entire time, slowly exhaled. "That was... insane," she whispered, still trying to process what had just happened.

"I don't know what came over me," Joey admitted, running a hand through his hair. He looked down at his hands, still trembling with adrenaline. "I just couldn't let him—"

"Enough!" Heat interrupted, his voice calm but firm. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Joey's shoulder. "We need to get out of here. The cops will be here any minute."

Without wasting any more time, Heat turned and jumped back into the car. The others quickly followed suit, and they sped off, leaving Nate and his wrecked car behind.

As they drove off into the night, Sam's heart was still racing. Her body was stiff from the tension, but something in her felt strangely... relieved. She glanced over at Joey, who was sitting quietly now, breathing heavily as he tried to calm down.

"Joey, you... you really saved us back there," Sam said, her voice shaking. She placed a hand on his arm, and Joey's eyes softened as he turned to look at her.

"I just couldn't let him hurt you. None of you," Joey said quietly, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. "You're all family."

Sam gave him a weak smile, her stomach still twisting with fear, but now there was a glimmer of hope in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn't alone.

"We're okay now," she whispered, her eyes on the road ahead. "We're really okay."

And as the car sped into the night, leaving behind the wreckage of a brutal chase, it seemed for the first time in a long while, there was hope.