Page 127 of Oathbreaker

WINTER

I’m 96.6 percent sure I’m pregnant. There’s the 3.4 percent margin of error because I haven’t been able to sneak a test into the house.

Hunter and I have not been careful. Not that he’s trying to be. In fact, he tries hard to avoid being careful with an absurd sense of glee. I’m not on birth control anymore, a decision I only halfway made when I got back home. I wanted to clear out my body from everything, and sex was the furthest thing from my mind.

But when Hunter brought it up all those weeks ago, I have to admit that part of me, a large part of me, didn’t want to get back on the pill.

Maybe it’s reckless—okay, it’s thoroughly reckless, seeing as we could be assassinated at any point.

But in the quiet moments, when I allow myself to dream, the idea of becoming a family with him and August and a child of our own….

I definitely should have gotten back on birth control.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I swipe mascara on my lower lashes, trying in vain to keep it off my under-eye concealer. The bags and dark circles are more prominent now since all I do is sleep during the day but not at night.

Plus, since I’ve been throwing up for the last week—at least when my body decided I could eat something—my skin has a vaguely green undertone. Hiding this from Hunter has been a nightmare.

I look fucking sick.

Ella knocks on the door, enters the bedroom, and calls out, “Ready, girlie?” Ella, Veronica, and I are going out for coffee.

Coffee is such a regular thing, but I haven’t been outside the estate in months, apart from the trip to Misha Hroshko’s home.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter into my reflection. Walking into the room, I feel a little self-conscious in my jeans and soft, light cardigan compared to Ella. She wears head-to-toe black, the scoop neck of her short-sleeved top showing off her perky breasts.

I pull the sweater together over my stomach.

“I’m fucking starving, let’s go,” Veronica calls from the doorway.

Summer naps as the au pair looks over her. Veronica and I hired the nanny, Jennifer, five weeks ago. She’s got over twenty years of experience, but this will be the first time we’ve left the baby “alone” with her.

Seeing the tense lines around Veronica’s mouth, I take a moment to remind her, “There are fifty-‘leven guards in this house. Three of them are stationed outside Summer’s nursery. She will be fine for the afternoon.”

Veronica’s shoulders drop. She’s been on edge since giving birth, not that I blame her. Between sleep deprivation and all the bullshit with James, she has good reason to be testy.

I grab her hand. “Let’s get you a blueberry scone, babe.”

I whistle for Kitty, and we head to the car. I try not to balk at the number of guards assigned.

There are ten guards here, H. Ten guards to take us to a café. You don’t think this is overkill?

All three of us get in the SUV, the Suburban this time to get the third row, and Rio and Ella’s regular guard sit in the front seats.

Rio’s gaze keeps flicking back toward us, and I swear his eyes land on Veronica more than they are on the rest of us.

My phone pings.

You’re lucky it’s only ten and that I didn’t shut down the whole street. I take your security very seriously.

Obviously.

Should I expect them to come with me into the bathroom?

Only if you want their deaths on your conscience.

A shiver runs down my back. I’ve clearly rolled over the line of morality because the statement makes my panties wet.

I miss you, Sunbeam.

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