Page 89 of Say You're Mine

"I'm coming for you," I whisper into the emptiness of our bed. "Hold on, my love. Just a little longer."

And as sleep finally claims me, I swear I can almost hear his voice, a whisper on the wind.

"I'm waiting, Cara. Always waiting for you."

A sharp knock jolts me from my fitful sleep. I bolt upright, heart racing, one hand instinctively cradling my belly.

"Cara?" Song's voice, urgent and muffled through the door. "You in there?"

I scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste. When I wrench the door open, I'm met with the worried faces of my siblings. Song's usually cheerful expression is drawn tight with concern, while Sonya's eyes are red-rimmed, as if she's been crying.

"What happened?" I demand, fear clawing at my throat. "Is it June?"

Song and Sonya exchange a loaded glance before Sonya speaks, her voice gentle. "We've been trying to find out where they're holding him, Cara. But it's like he's vanished. No one will tell us anything."

The room spins, and I grip the doorframe to steady myself. "What do you mean, vanished? He can't just-"

"Easy, sis," Song says, reaching out to support me. "Let's sit down, okay? We've got some news, but you need to stay calm. For the baby."

I want to scream, to rage against the patronizing tone, the implication that I'm some delicate flower who can't handle the truth. But the genuine concern in their eyes stops me. Instead, I let them guide me to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a weary sigh.

"Tell me," I say, steeling myself for the worst.

Sonya takes my hand, her grip almost painfully tight. "We finally got some information from a contact in the DA's office. June's being moved in three days. To a psych ward at a prison three counties away."

The words hit me like a physical blow. A psych ward. They're going to lock him up, drug him into compliance, strip away everything that makes him June.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head in denial. "No, they can't. We won't let them."

"Cara," Song starts, his voice hesitant. "Maybe... maybe it's for the best. After everything he's been through, he might need-"

"Don't," I snarl, yanking my hand from Sonya's grasp. "Don't you dare suggest that June belongs in there. You have no idea what he's capable of, how strong he is."

"We're just worried about you," Sonya says, reaching for me again. "Both of you. This stress can't be good for the baby, and if June's not in his right mind-"

"He is," I insist, my voice rising. "He's fighting. For me, for our child. And I'm not going to abandon him now."

I struggle to my feet, ignoring the concerned looks from my siblings. "We have three days," I say, my mind already racing with plans. "Three days to get him out before they bury him so deep we'll never find him again."

"Cara, be reasonable," Song pleads. "You're in no condition to-"

"To what?" I snap, rounding on him. "To fight for the man I love? To protect my family? Watch me."

I stalk to the bedroom, yanking open drawers and pulling out clothes. "I need you to call Dante," I tell Sonya over my shoulder. "Tell him plans have changed. We're moving now."

"Moving? Cara, what are you talking about?" Sonya asks, bewilderment clear in her voice.

I emerge from the bedroom, now dressed in dark, practical clothing. "We're getting June out. Tonight."

The acrid tang of gunmetal fills my nostrils as I tuck the weapon into my waistband. It's cold against my skin, a clear difference from the woman I used to be. The Cara of a year ago would've recoiled at the thought of holding a gun, let alone using one. But that Cara didn't know what it meant to have everything she loved threatened.

"Jesus, Cara," Song breathes, his eyes wide with shock. "What the hell are you doing?"

I meet his gaze, unflinching. "What I have to," I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. "Now, are you with me or not?"

The weight of the gun, the baby kicking insistently against my ribs, the fear and determination warring in my siblings' eyes - it all coalesces into a moment of crystal clarity. This is who I am now. A woman willing to cross any line, break any law, to protect what's hers.

Sonya and Song share one of those silent conversations only siblings can have. I watch the play of emotions across their faces - concern, fear, resignation, and finally, resolve. Sonya turns to me, her jaw set in a way that reminds me painfully of our father.

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