Page 57 of Say You're Mine

There's a vicious irony to it, a dagger edge of cruelty honed to devastating perfection. Elaine's greatest weapon is the damage she herself inflicted, the festering wounds she gouged into my psyche with her lies and manipulations. And now, poised on the razor's edge between reason and madness, she wields my own fractures like a scalpel, carving away the last tethers anchoring me to hope and sanity.

Minutes bleed into hours, time an excruciating drip of molten lead. I cling to memories of Cara, the incandescent now-ness of our soul-deep bond, but even those are tarnished, warped by the looming spectre of loss.

When Judith finally appears, bearing news, I'm a ticking bomb, seconds from detonation. Her face is drawn, a portrait of haggard resolve.

"Psych evals for both of you," she says, each word a twist of the knife. "And supervised visitation. The judge's orders."

The words shatter me, a point-blank blast of unthinkable betrayal. Supervised visitation - as if I'm some rabid animal, frothing for the taste of my own child's blood. The pain, the sheer fucking cruelty, rips a snarl from my throat.

"Cara. Where is she? I need her, need to-"

"Sleeping," Judith cuts me off, her tone granite inflected with weary compassion. "The hearing wrung her dry, June. She's deadweight on the mattress, and that's where she'll stay."

My fury gutters out, quenched by a tidal wave of guilt and raw, aching love. Of course she's exhausted, wrung out and struggling beneath the atlas weight of our survival while I've been drowning in the cesspits of my own unraveling mind.

"Rest," Judith commands, the fleeting press of her hand on my nape a hot-cold jolt. "Tomorrow, we regroup and counterstrike. Tonight, stand down, soldier."

I subside with a jerky nod, words a tangle of barbed wire and broken glass in my throat. The snick of the lock behind her is a death knell tolling in my skull.

Sleep. As if oblivion is an option with the taste of Elaine's latest poison acrid on my tongue. My every molecule screams for action, for blood, for the visceral crunch of her bones beneath my fury.

But I cage the beast, wrestle it thrashing and howling behind bars of iron discipline. I'm nitroglycerin with a hair-trigger, one errant spark from an earth-shattering kaboom.

Seconds tick by, a sadistic metronome counting cadence to my unraveling. Sleep dances just beyond reach, wisps of silken darkness dissolving to the harsh fluorescent glare behind my eyelids.

No. No more.

I won't be a passive observer in my own life, won't let Elaine's poison touch what's mine. I am Juniper fucking Deveaux, and I will burn this world to ash before I let her win.

The lock on the door is child's play, picked with a paperclip I've kept hidden for just such an occasion. The hallway beyond is deserted, the skeleton night crew no match for my desperation.

I move like a ghost, silent and deadly, years of training kicking in as I navigate the twisting corridors. My bare feet make no sound on the cold tile, my senses hyperaware of every shadow, every whisper of movement.

And then I'm there, outside the room where I know Cara sleeps. My hand hesitates on the doorknob, a moment of doubt piercing through the haze of determination. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if I'm too broken, too damaged to be the man she needs?

But the memory of Elaine's smug face, of her claws reaching for our child, banishes any trace of hesitation. I twist the knob, slipping inside like a thief in the night.

The room is bathed in soft moonlight, casting everything in shades of silver and shadow. And there, curled on her side in a nest of blankets, is Cara.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She's so beautiful it hurts, her face relaxed in sleep, one hand resting protectively over the swell of her belly. Our child. Our miracle.

I approach the bed on silent feet, drinking in every detail. The soft fall of her hair across the pillow, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the tiny furrow between her brows that speaks of troubled dreams.

"Cara," I breathe, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Wake up, baby. I need you."

She stirs, those storm-gray eyes fluttering open. For a moment, there's only confusion in her gaze. Then recognition dawns, and she gasps.

"June?" Her voice is thick with sleep, but there's an undercurrent of fear that cuts me to the bone. "What are you- How did you-"

"Shh," I murmur, cupping her face in my hands. "It's okay. I'm here now."

She sits up, the blankets pooling around her waist, and I can't help but stare at the changes in her body. Her breasts are fuller, straining against the thin fabric of her nightgown, and the curve of her stomach makes my throat tight with emotion.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispers, but her hands come up to grip my wrists, holding me in place. "Judith said you weren't ready, that you needed more time to-"

I silence her with a kiss, pouring every ounce of longing, every shred of desperation into the press of my lips against hers. She makes a soft sound of surprise, then melts into me, her mouth opening under mine with a familiar heat that sets my blood on fire.

"I couldn't stay away," I growl, breaking the kiss to trail my lips along the curve of her jaw. "Not when that bitch is trying to take our child. Not when you're facing this alone."

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