For several agonizing seconds, no one moved.
Marcus Thorne felt as though the room had been drained of air. His gaze remained fixed on Khloe, who lay curled on the polished marble floor, both arms wrapped protectively around the life growing inside her. A strand of blonde hair clung to her tear-streaked face, and every shallow breath she managed sounded painfully forced.
"Marcus..." she whispered.
The sound of her voice snapped him back to reality.
He crossed the room in three hurried strides and dropped to his knees beside her.