Page 159 of Deceit

I can’t say that I blame him.

“I’ll be done by the time the kids get out of the NICU,” I remind him. “No one has to do about you on the birth certificate.”

“You better hurry the fuck up. I already feel the target on the back of my head.”

“I’m going to do this as quickly as I can. I promise.”

“I know.” He peeks over his shoulder to me. “I know. We’ll…I’ll make sure the babies hear your voice twice a day when I visit at the hospital.”

“I’d love that.”

“I mean, what’s two to three weeks? You and I might have to disappear after the gang finds out you’re alive, but you’ve forged passports and new identities before. I can pick out my own name and shit.”

“This will work.” I lean back in my seat and cross my arms. “I take care of him in that amount of time.”

“Now wait a minute—“ Mills’s voice transforms from just being a smart ass a moment ago back to skeptical. “—you’re not going to be doing that alone.”

My brows knit. “That’s the whole point of the squadnotbeing involved in this.”

“Then I’m calling in one of mymanyfavors,” he counters. “You won’t go off assassinating without backup, which will be me.”

“Alright…when I’m ready, you can be nearby and onstandbyif I need you.”

Minutes later, we pull off on the side of the road in a highly shitty part of town. The studio apartment is run down with chipped white paint, hanging gutters, and cracked cement stairs.

Neither of us makes an effort to get out. The moment that I do is when everything will crash around me. The reality of going to a home without my babies will suffocate me until I rid myself and them of Alexander.

My heart beats triple time, and my palms begin to sweat from nerves.

Self-doubt begins to creep its ugly head, but I try to focus on revenge.

He almost killed us.

Alaric and Atlas shouldn’t be in the world yet overcoming their medical needs.

“I don’t like it,” Mills quips. “You couldn’t pick out anything better?”

“Didn’t have a lot of time.” I hold out my hand. “I need your gun.”

“How about we get you into a hotel room and—“

“It’ll be fine,” I urge. “It’ll give me something to do when I’m not obsessing over what I’m missing.”

“This place isa dump.”

I snort. “Then it’ll match what this whole situation is.”

A month later…

My heart is ripping in two, and I can’t breathe.

The outcome of this ordeal isn’t going to end well, and I can’t help but feel guilty for everything that’s happened.

I spent the lot of six years protecting and loving her, and I’ve only admitted it out loud once. But I’m proud of who she is and what she’s been in my life.

And when large hands wrap around her neck, I can see that her face begins to turn paler mixed with a light shade of red.

She’s trying to fight him off, but he’s too big, and I can’t help her. The zip-ties around my wrists are too tight. My throat aches from screaming at them to stop.

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