Page 82 of Say You're Mine

Judith pulls me into a fierce hug, and I let myself sink into the comfort of her embrace. For just a moment, I'm not Cara the fighter, Cara the schemer. I'm just a scared, pregnant woman who misses her husband with every fiber of her being.

"He knows, Cara," Judith murmurs into my hair. "He knows you're fighting for him. We all are."

As night falls, I retreat to the nursery we'd barely started preparing. I run my fingers over the half-finished mural, the supplies gathering dust. A mobile of stars and moons hangs motionless above the empty crib, a cruel reminder of the dreams we'd dared to dream.

I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and allow myself a moment of weakness. Tears stream down my face as I clutch my swollen belly, feeling the strong kicks of the life within.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to our unborn child, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry you have to come into this world of shadows and lies. But I swear to you, I'll make it right. I'll bring your daddy home, and we'll be the family we were meant to be."

The moment passes, and I wipe away the tears with a determined hand. There's work to be done.

I pull out the encrypted laptop Dante provided, diving into the web of information we've gathered. Financial records, hospital logs, whispered rumors – each a thread in the tapestry of Elaine's corruption. And somewhere in this digital labyrinth is the key to bringing her down.

Hours pass, my eyes burning as I pore over document after document. A pattern begins to emerge – a series of transfers to an offshore account, coinciding with the dates of June's "treatments" at Faulkner's facility.

My blood runs cold as the implications sink in. This goes beyond Elaine, beyond even Faulkner. There's a whole network involved, a shadow organization profiting from the pain and suffering of God knows how many victims.

A notification pops up – a secure message from Sarah. My heart races as I decrypt it:

"Assigned to new facility. Something's wrong here. Patients... not what they seem. Amethyst is here, heavily sedated. She's pregnant, Cara. But it's not what you think. Need to talk. Urgent."

I sit back, my mind whirling. Sarah, unknowingly placed exactly where we need her to be. And Amethyst – pregnant? My hand instinctively goes to my own swollen belly as a chill runs down my spine. What the hell is going on in that place?

It's almost too perfect, too convenient. A tendril of suspicion curls in my gut. Can we truly trust Sarah? Or is she another pawn in Elaine's elaborate game?

I reach for my phone, fingers hovering over Dante's number. He could have them both extracted, brought in for questioning. We could finally get some concrete answers about what's really going on in these facilities.

But something stops me. A memory of Sarah's kind eyes, the risks she took to help June escape. And Amethyst – despite everything, she's a victim in this too. If they are innocent, if they truly need help... bringing Dante's people in could put them in terrible danger.

I make my decision. We'll use Sarah's information, but cautiously. Trust, but verify. It's a dangerous game we're playing, and one false move could cost us everything.

I type out a response, encrypting it heavily:

"Stay safe. Gather what intel you can, but don't take unnecessary risks. Keep Amethyst safe if you can. We'll be in touch with extraction plan soon."

As I hit send, the weight of this new information settles over me like a lead blanket. Amethyst, pregnant and held against her will. Other patients, other victims, trapped in Elaine's web. The scale of this conspiracy is staggering, the depths of depravity unfathomable.

But with each new revelation, my resolve only strengthens. We're not just fighting for June anymore, or even just for our family. We're fighting for all of them – every soul caught in Elaine's twisted machinations.

I caress my belly, feeling our child shift restlessly within. "We're going to end this," I promise, my voice steel-edged with determination. "For all of us. For every family she's tried to destroy."

A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself. The stress, the lack of sleep, the constant state of high alert – it's taking its toll. I should rest, should take better care of myself for the baby's sake. But every moment of inaction feels like a betrayal, like I'm abandoning June to his fate.

I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly as another wave of lightheadedness hits. Maybe Judith is right. Maybe I am pushing myself too hard.

But then I think of June, alone in that cold cell, surrounded by enemies. I think of the horrors he endured at Faulkner's hands, the scars that mar his beautiful soul. And I know that I can't stop, can't rest, until he's safe in my arms again.

I make my way to the kitchen, brewing a pot of decaf coffee. The rich aroma fills the air, a poor substitute for the caffeinated nectar I crave, but it'll have to do. As I wait for it to brew, I find myself drawn to the window, staring out at the sleeping city.

Somewhere out there, Elaine is plotting her next move. Somewhere, June is fighting to hold onto hope, to remember who he is beneath the lies they've tried to plant in his mind.

And here I am, caught in the middle, a player in a game where the stakes are higher than I ever could have imagined.

A sharp kick from the baby startles me from my reverie. I place a hand on my belly, feeling the strong movements within. "I know, little one," I murmur, a sad smile tugging at my lips. "I miss him too."

The coffee maker beeps, and I pour myself a cup, savoring the warmth as I cradle it in my hands. It's in quiet moments like these that the weight of what we're facing truly hits me. The enormity of going up against someone like Elaine, with all her power and resources. The risk we're taking, not just with our own lives, but with the future of our child.

I think of June's smile, of the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. I think of the life we dreamed of building together, the family we fought so hard to create. And I know that there's no power on this earth that could make me give up on that dream.

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