They Killed My Three Babies for a Raven's Prophecy

I slapped the wax-sealed medical dossier onto the desk in the study.

"Read it," I gasped, my hand instinctively coming up to protect my slightly swollen belly.

"I'm three months along. I went all the way to the Royal College of Physicians in London. Three of their top obstetricians signed that paper. They used their newest stethoscopes and heard a strong, rapid heartbeat. The baby is perfectly healthy, thriving even! There is no curse. This is Finnick's child, a completely healthy Hale heir."

My father-in-law, Lord Hale, didn't even glance at the parchment. His cold, pale eyes remained fixed on the ornate brass cage sitting in the dark corner of the room.

Inside sat a one-eyed raven.

The massive black bird shifted on its perch. Its cloudy, ink-black left eye locked dead onto my stomach. Then, it slowly opened its beak.

"Cast it out."

My blood ran completely cold.

Not again.

"Did you hear that?" My mother-in-law, Lady Hale, stepped out from the study. "The raven has spoken. The child carries the curse. It cannot stay."

"Are you insane?" I screamed, taking a frantic step back. "It's just a bird! A sick, twisted animal! Look at the damn medical report!"

"Enough!" Lord Hale barked. He lunged forward and grabbed my upper arm. "Get the doctor. We’re doing this today."

This was my third pregnancy in my three years of marriage to Finnick. And it was playing out exactly like the last two nightmares.

The first time, I was only five weeks along. I had brought home a clean bill of health from a top-tier physician. But the raven stared at my flat belly and screeched, Cast it out. My in-laws ignored my pleas, dragged me to the private clinic, and forced a vile, black herbal abortifacient down my throat. I bled for three days.

The second time, I barely made it to one month. Same bird. Same horrific words. Same forced abortion. They never gave me a real reason. Just the so-called "will" of that damn bird.

This time, I thought I was smart. I hid the pregnancy. I wore loose dresses and suffered through morning sickness in total silence until I passed the three-month mark. I got the irrefutable proof.

But it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

"Move!" Lord Hale yanked me hard toward the study doors.

"No! Don't touch me!" I thrashed wildly, my heavy velvet skirt tangling around my legs as I tried to pull away.

Lady Hale circled around and grabbed my other arm. "Stop making a scene, Brinley. We already booked the surgery room. We have the instruments prepped. You're coming with us right now."

They shoved me out of the study and into the grand hallway. A few maids were dusting the portraits, but the moment I started screaming, they lowered their heads and scurried away, pretending to be deaf.

I twisted my body hard, managing to break my right arm free from Lady Hale's grip. I lunged for the grand staircase. Both of my hands clamped onto the thick wooden banister.

"I am not going!" I shrieked, my chest heaving as tears blurred my vision. "The baby is fine! Why are you doing this? Why are you forcing me to kill my own children?!"

Lord Hale's face turned a violent shade of purple. He marched over, grabbed my wrists, and began painfully prying my fingers off the wood, one by one.

"You are the daughter-in-law of the Hale family," he snarled, his heavy signet ring grinding painfully against my bones. "Cut the crap. When I tell you to get rid of it, you get rid of it!"

"My first baby was five weeks! My second was four!" I sobbed. "Now I'm three months pregnant! I have a healthy, living baby inside me! And you want to kill it because a bird told you to? You're monsters!"

Crack.

He wrenched my fingers backward with crushing force, bending them until a blinding, white-hot pain shot all the way up my arm. I cried out in agony, my trembling muscles failing.

They hauled me up by the armpits. They pulled me across the endless marble floor toward the front carriage hall. The private clinic was just across the courtyard.

"Finnick!" I screamed, hoping to God my husband was somewhere in the manor. "Finnick, please! Help me!"

But there was no answer. He was gone, just like he was the last two times.

We reached the carriage hall. Lord Hale shoved me hard.

"Mom... dad... I'm begging you," I cried, sobbing so hard I could barely catch my breath. "Please. The baby is innocent. You can't strip away its right to live. That raven is just an animal! Don't listen to it! I'll do anything you want, just let me keep this baby!"

Lady Hale looked down at me.

"You've aborted two already," she sneered, her voice dripping with absolute disgust. "Why are you being so stubborn now? You should know the drill. That thing in your belly is coming out today."

She turned away, entirely unfazed by my breakdown. Lord Hale signaled to the two burly estate guards standing by the doorway.

"Grab her legs. Drag her to the clinic."

"No! No! Don't touch me!" I kicked out wildly, scrambling backward until my back hit the cold, unforgiving stone wall.

This was it. I had nowhere left to run. My third child was going to be ripped from my body, and I was completely powerless to stop it. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the guards to grab me.

Clang.

The sound of the iron gates pushing open shattered the tension in the room.

I whipped my head around, blinking through my tears to look out the massive glass windows of the hall.

A black, horse-drawn carriage rolled onto the cobblestone driveway. I recognized the gold-painted crest on the wooden door immediately.

It was the my family crest.

My heart leaped into my throat. The suffocating despair that had been crushing my chest instantly vanished, replaced by a massive, overwhelming surge of hope.

"Mom! Dad! Save me!"