His Pregnant Queen in The Death Game

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen.

But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment.

The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens.

Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker.

"Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?"

I froze. Alex was here?

A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?"

It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards.

He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims.

Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company.

I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise.

Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button.

Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony.

The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides.

Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die.

Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die."

He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me.

They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

...

They threw me onto the docks. Hard.

Rain soaked through my white dress in an instant.

I struggled to get up, but my hands were tied behind my back. A black hood was over my head.

Seven months pregnant, my swollen belly was an anchor, dragging me down.

"Let the games begin!" a voice boomed over the speakers, buzzing with excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, scum of the city! Welcome to the Dockside Deathmatch! Tonight's contestants? Ten Russian rats caught sniffing around our territory!"

Spies? Assassins?

That wasn't me! I'm Valentina! I'm Alex's wife!

I tried to scream, but fear had stolen my voice.

"Place your bets now! Who will die next?"

Giant searchlights suddenly flooded the entire dockyard.

Steel containers were arranged like a maze, offering cover for the hunted.

I heard the footsteps of others, all running for their lives.

A woman’s scream echoed from the distance, then stopped cold.

"The Boss has placed a bet!" The voice on the speaker was mocking. "Thirty million dollars! On the crazy pregnant one!"

My heart stopped.

Alex was here?

My Alex?

"What a cold bet, Boss," a voice chimed in with a chuckle. "Thirty million in easy money! Look at that belly. She can barely even run!"

Then, I heard that sickly sweet voice.

"Oh, Alex, you always know how to pick them," she cooed, the sound of it making my stomach turn. "That one looks like she’ll be the next to go. You’re so clever, thinking just like me."

The princess of the Chicago Outfit.

The woman who was obsessed with my husband.

"You always know how to please me," she said, her voice dripping with a smug, triumphant laugh.

I waited for Alex to shut her down.

To push her away, to reject her with his usual coldness.

But this time, there was nothing.

Only a suffocating, crushing silence that was broken when I finally tore a hole in my hood and looked up at the main viewing screen.

I saw it all.

Scarlett leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder, a possessive, intimate gesture.

And he didn't push her away.

He just sat there, his arm resting casually on the back of her chair, letting her stay close.

It felt like a hand was squeezing my heart, forcing the blood back into my veins.

Tears blurred my vision.

The rain hitting the hood made it almost impossible to breathe.

The memory hit me.

Three years ago. Lincoln Center. A handsome stranger blocked my path, asked me to dance, and bought me a private fireworks show.

I learned his name later. The most dangerous man in New York.

I tried to run. But he was relentless. Bouquets of lilies after every performance.

Then, one rainy night, he knelt on those same steps.

"Give up this life for you," he’d sworn. "Marry me."

I believed the man kneeling in the rain.

I believed the love in his eyes. A liar.

Gunshots pulled me back to the present.

Someone screamed. Someone else fell. The smell of blood mixed with the salty stench of the sea, and I felt sick.

"Ten remain!" the announcer shouted. "Time to up the stakes! Unleash the hounds!"

My blood ran cold.

I'm terrified of dogs.

Alex knew that. He knew about the stray that bit me when I was a kid.

A loud grinding noise echoed as most of the containers were pushed flat. Our cover was disappearing.

This wasn't a chase anymore. It was a deathtrap.

I desperately tried to pull off the hood. The rope cut into my wrists, drawing blood. I finally tore a small hole.

Rain hit my face. I looked up at the nearest security camera.

With all my strength, I made the gesture—my index finger tapped my heart, then pointed to the sky.

Our secret sign.

"My heart is always with you."

He taught it to me. He said it was just for us.

The broadcast went silent for a few seconds.

Time seemed to stand still.

Then I heard Alex's hesitant voice. "That pregnant woman's face... why does she look so much like my wife?"

A flicker of hope ignited in me.

He recognized me! I could get out of this nightmare...

"Alex," Scarlett's voice turned sharp. "Among these killers, the pregnant ones are masters of disguise. She's here for you!"

She didn't pause, her voice cold and mocking. "They study your weaknesses. They know what you value most. How could Valentina possibly be here? She's at home, waiting peacefully to give birth!"

No!

I shook my head wildly, trying to tear off the rest of the hood.

The ropes dug into my skin, but the pain of Alex's next words was worse.

"That damn killer!" Alex roared. "She dares to use my wife's face to play mind games!"

"Make her pay for that insult!"

"Release all the hounds! Now!"

The iron gates burst open.

Thirty huge Dobermans shot out like black lightning.

Their snarls echoed in the rainy night.

I turned and ran, but my pregnant body was clumsy, useless.

Every step was agony. The baby inside me seemed to sense the danger, kicking frantically.

The first dog tackled me.

Sharp teeth sank into my ankle. The pain made me scream.

The smell of blood filled the air.

I curled up, trying to protect my stomach, and felt a warm liquid run down my leg.

Was it blood? Or my water breaking?

My baby... my baby...

"Haha! That stupid pregnant bitch!" a voice cackled over the speaker. "Serves her right for trying to be an assassin!"

"Her old man must be a real piece of work! Not every guy worships his pregnant wife like the Boss does!"

Every word was a knife in my heart.

More dogs piled on.

The pain was so intense I couldn't even scream anymore. I didn't know if my face was covered in tears, blood, or rain.

I looked helplessly at the camera.

I could almost see Scarlett, leaning against Alex, smirking.

She had finally gotten what she wanted.

I couldn't believe this was the same man who was rubbing stretch mark oil on my belly just last night.

The same man who pressed his ear to my stomach to listen to the baby move, whispering, "Come out soon, little one. Daddy will love you and Mommy forever."

Now he was letting me die here.

Letting me and his child die here.

I heard more gunshots from all around. More Dobermans emerged from the darkness.

Despair washed over me.

Was this it? Was I going to die here? I closed my eyes, helpless.

Then, Scarlett's sweet, cruel laugh echoed from the control room.

She pressed the button for the microphone.

"Honey, don't let the dogs kill her. I have other ideas. I'm not done playing yet."