Page 64 of Say You're Mine

Judith sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The judge was... very specific in her ruling. You're not to have any contact with Cara for the next two weeks. It's meant to be a 'cooling off' period."

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Two weeks. Two weeks without seeing Cara, without touching her, without feeling our child kick beneath my palm. It's unthinkable. Unbearable.

"Fuck that," I growl, already moving towards the door. "I'll break in if I have to. I'll-"

Dante's hand on my chest stops me, his grip like iron. "And get yourself thrown in jail? Use your head, June. We need to be smart about this."

I want to argue, to fight, to tear the whole fucking world apart until I have Cara back in my arms. But deep down, I know they're right. Elaine would love nothing more than to see me self-destruct, to prove once and for all that I'm unfit to be a father.

"Fine," I grit out, every muscle in my body screaming for action. "What's the plan?"

As Judith outlines our legal options, my mind drifts. I can almost smell Cara's jasmine shampoo, feel the silk of her skin beneath my fingertips. The memory of our last night together is seared into my brain - the desperation in her kisses, the way she clung to me like I was her lifeline.

Had she known, somehow? Had she sensed that our time together was running out?

"June?" Dante's voice snaps me back to the present. "You with us?"

I nod, forcing myself to focus on the conversation. But even as I listen, even as I offer suggestions and argue strategy, a part of me is already plotting. Because two weeks is an eternity, and there's no way in hell I'm staying away from Cara that long.

Legal options be damned. I'll find a way to see her, to make sure she and our child are safe. And if that means playing dirty, well... Elaine taught me everything I know about fighting dirty.

As night falls, the others finally leave me alone with my thoughts. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Each second that passes is another moment Cara spends in Elaine's clutches, another chance for that poisonous bitch to sink her claws in deeper.

I pace the length of the room, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Five steps. Turn. Five steps back. It's not enough. Nothing is enough to quell the restless energy thrumming through my veins.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm throwing on a hoodie and slipping out into the night. The cool air hits my face, a shock to the system after hours cooped up inside. I breathe deeply, tasting the promise of rain on the wind.

I have no real destination in mind, but my feet carry me unerringly towards Elaine's neighborhood. It's stupid, reckless, exactly the kind of thing Judith warned me against. But I can't help myself. I need to be closer to Cara, even if I can't see her.

The streets are quiet at this hour, the mansions dark and lifeless behind their wrought-iron gates. I stick to the shadows, years of practice making me all but invisible. And then I see it - Elaine's house, a looming monstrosity of stone and glass.

My heart rate kicks up a notch as I approach. There's a light on in one of the upstairs windows, and for a wild moment, I consider scaling the wall. It would be easy enough. I've done it before, back when I was a rebellious teenager sneaking out to meet Cara.

But before I can act on the impulse, movement catches my eye. A figure at the window, silhouetted against the warm glow of a lamp. Even from this distance, I'd know that shape anywhere.

Cara.

She's running a hand over her swollen belly, her head bowed as if in prayer. The sight of her, so close yet so impossibly far away, is like a knife to the heart. I want to call out to her, to let her know I'm here. But I know I can't. Not without risking everything.

So I stand there, rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. I don't know how long I stay, watching her move about the room, imagining I can hear the soft melody of her voice as she talks to our unborn child.

It's the distant wail of sirens that finally snaps me out of my trance. I melt back into the shadows, my heart pounding with a mixture of elation and despair. I've seen her. She's safe, at least for now. It will have to be enough.

But as I make my way back to Dante's compound, a plan begins to form in my mind. A reckless, dangerous plan that could cost me everything if I'm caught. But for Cara, for our child... it's worth the risk.

I'll play by the rules, for now. I'll jump through the hoops and say all the right things. But the moment those two weeks are up, all bets are off. I'll get Cara back, even if I have to burn Elaine's whole fucking world to the ground to do it.

Sleep eludes me that night, my mind a churning sea of half-formed plans and dark promises. I toss and turn, the sheets tangling around my legs like grasping hands. When I finally do drift off, my dreams are a twisted mess of memory and nightmare.

I'm back in Faulkner's lab, strapped to that godforsaken chair. But this time, it's not me he's torturing. It's Cara, her screams echoing off the sterile walls as Elaine looks on with cold satisfaction.

I jerk awake with a strangled cry, sweat-soaked and trembling. The room is bathed in the gray light of predawn, reality slowly seeping back in. It was just a dream. Cara's safe. Faulkner is dead, his sick games buried with him.

But the fear lingers, a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. Because I know, with a bone-deep certainty, that Elaine is capable of inflicting just as much damage as Faulkner ever was. Her weapons might be psychological rather than physical, but they cut just as deep.

I drag myself out of bed, knowing sleep is a lost cause. My reflection in the bathroom mirror is a sorry sight - dark circles under my eyes, stubble coating my jaw. I look like a man on the edge, and I suppose that's exactly what I am.

The hot water of the shower does little to ease the tension in my muscles, but at least it washes away the last clinging cobwebs of the nightmare. As I dress, I can hear movement downstairs - Judith and Dante, no doubt plotting our next move.

---