Stacks of old wooden crates and rusted machinery parts filled the vast space.

“Sit there,” Chloe ordered, pointing to a metal folding chair near a rusted forklift.

I walked over slowly, holding my belly with both hands.

I sat down, the cold metal of the chair sending a shiver up my spine.

“Julian is coming here,” Chloe said, pacing back and forth in front of me.

“He thinks he’s meeting me to split the remaining assets and get the passports.”

“He won’t help you,” I said. “He’s desperate. He knows the feds are closing in.”

“He’ll do what I tell him to do,” she said, though her voice trembled slightly.

She pulled out her phone, checking the screen.

“No signal in here,” she muttered, walking toward the large bay doors at the front of the warehouse.

I leaned forward, trying to ease the pressure on my lower back.

The contractions were coming faster now.

I checked my watch.

It had been barely eight minutes since the last one.

“Chloe,” I said, my voice shaking. “My water just broke.”