Page 153 of Oathbreaker

“Wait, where are you going?” She flings the door open, whirling around to respond to me.

“To find your baby daddy so I can rip his dick off!”

“Stop! It wasn’t his fault. The people shooting at us?—”

“People fucking shot at you?” she bellows, and I’m a little surprised security isn’t stampeding down the hallway.

I shush her. “Stop yelling! I don’t want August to overhear. I’m not happy about it either,” I say hotly. “But I’m mad at him, so please don’t chase after him because then I’ll have to follow you, and I don’t want to see him right now.”

She inhales sharply, holding her breath. When I think she’ll pass out for how long she’s trapped the air in her lungs, she blows it all out.

“Only because you are with child will I honor your request,” she says, tipping her head back to look down at me past her nose.

“Thank you,” I say, my shoulders relaxing.

Her face breaks into a stunning smile. It’s contagious, and I find myself smiling back at her. Then I yawn.

“Ah, the first-trimester exhaustion. I get it. Want something to eat before you crash?”

I shake my head. “Not right now. I wanna sit in silence for a little bit. Maybe close my eyes.”

She gives me a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much, Winter.” Her words quiver. “I’m really fucking glad we’re okay again.”

I kiss her cheek, and we pull away from each other. “I love you, Rons.”

“Ditto, bitch.” She sticks her tongue out. With a kiss on my cheek, I’m alone in my room again.

The conversation was exhausting, but I feel a little lighter having told Veronica everything, especially about the baby.

The baby.

Hearing their little heartbeat and seeing them flicker on the screen was the most surreal moment of my life. There’s a little life inside me. A life that Hunter and I created together.

I love Hunter, and I’m fucking pissed at him.

I wander into the bathroom, ready to take a hot shower to release my tense muscles. When I’m naked, I stare at my body in the mirror.

My breasts look larger and swollen. The force of gravity on them, with my bra removed, straddles the line between pain and relief.

I turn to the side. My stomach has never been flat, and I’m not a tiny woman. I hold my stomach skin up, pushing it toward my ribs to see my abdomen.

Goddamn, there’s a tiny bump there.

My other hand runs over my lower stomach, and I press my hand there.

Girl, you’re just bloated.

Icy fear ricochets through me. A baby. A baby to keep safe. A baby to get to term.

Don’t die—don’t die—don’t.

I slap my hands on the cool marble. The feeling of the surface beneath my palms shocks me enough to stop the spinning thoughts.

Ground yourself as often as you need to. Genevieve’s words echo in my brain.

I step into the spray, not waiting for it to warm up fully. The frigid water pelting my body serves as a cognitive reset. Soon, the steam from our shower billows around me, and I feel muscle group after muscle group relax.

You are safe.

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