Page 22 of Lured By the Cartel

The door creaked open tentatively, revealing Marco standing tall in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the scene unfolding before him. His expression darkened, suspicion flaring hotter than anger ever could. Fuck. Caught red-handed. Literally.

"What were you doing?"He demanded, advancing further into the room, crowding my personal space. Goddammit, why did he have to tower over me like that? Intimidating, yes. Scary too. Yet also... thrilling somehow. Inappropriate reaction, definitely.

"Nothing,"I lied smoothly, turning away, pretending nonchalance."Just... cleaning up."

His brow furrowed, disbelief evident in those expressive features. Good. Let him doubt himself instead of me for once. Better than facing interrogation otherwise.

"You're lying,"he stated firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. The accusation hung heavy amidst the statement, weighing down each word until guilt crushed me entirely. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Story of my life.

"No, I’m not," I shot back instantly, shaking my head. Too late, I recognized the crack in my armor—my defensiveness exposing my vulnerability. A rookie mistake, obvious and damning.

He stepped closer still, close enough for the heat radiating off him, wrapping around me protectively despite the tension stretching taut between us. Close enough for scent marking me, claiming me utterly despite the lack of physical contact. Close enough for fear to rise swiftly, choking off rational thought entirely.

"My Lucas..."he murmured softly, his voice dropping lower, resonating ominously within the confined space. My Lucas? He never said that before? When did ownership become implicit in tone, inherent in timbre?

"I'm fine,"I assured quickly, stepping back, escaping the proximity threatening my control. His hand reached out reflexively, grasping mine tightly, halting my retreat. Trapped.

"We need to talk,"he announced suddenly, releasing hold reluctantly, giving me space to breathe again. Thank god for small mercies.

"Yes,"I agreed, eyeing him. Talk meant questions, answers, and truths laid bare. All things I dreaded sharing right now. Not because I didn't trust him; quite the opposite, actually. Because I trusted him fully. And knowing him, knowing what he'd do once told...

But first, distractions. Anything to delay the inevitable confrontation looming ahead.

"Can we go downstairs first?"I suggested, gesturing vaguely towards the exit."I haven't had breakfast yet."Lie. I hadn't eaten anything substantial days ago. Fear had choked my appetite, leaving no room for sustenance.

He hesitated, considering the offer silently before nodding sharply."Fine. But later..."

Later. Yes, I heard him loud and clear. Later meant explanations, revelations, and confessions. Later meant truths spilling forth unrestrained, consequences following closely behind.

Yet, for now, later remained distant, undefined, and uncertain. Now focused solely on evading detection, concealing secrets, and maintaining the status quo. For however long possible, whatever cost necessary.

Chapter 11

Marco

The weeks dragged by, days bleeding together as I fought to maintain my mask while harboring growing suspicions. Lucas noticed nothing, going about his routines while I watched him with a predator's attention, catching subtle changes that only my years of observation could detect.

First came the changes in his demeanor—increased sensitivity, heightened emotions, emotional outbursts seemingly out of nowhere. Then, physical alterations began manifesting gradually—weight gain, nausea, fatigue. Each symptom added fuel to the fire burning brightly within my chest, igniting fears hidden deep beneath layers of denial, uncertainty, and hope.

Most telling, though, was the shift in his scent. Sweetness intensified exponentially, filling every corner of our common spaces, clinging to fabrics, lingering stubbornly after his absence. It marked him distinctly, clearly, unmistakably—an omega carrying new life within. My life. Our child.

Yet, despite evidence piling high, concrete proof stacking steadily against deniability, I held firm, feigning ignorance.Pretended none of it mattered, that everything remained unchanged. Why? Because admitting the truth aloud would force confrontations neither of us desired openly. Not when uncertainty ruled supreme, confusion clouded judgment, and fear dictated actions.

He didn't want to tell me that he was pregnant. That alone spoke volumes about what he was thinking.

Lucas seemed content with pretense, accepting the facade at face value. Better that way, surely. Safer too, given the circumstances surrounding our lives. Until solid ground formed beneath us, keeping everything secret was the wiser choice.

Still, questions lingered, demanding answers refused thus far. How far along was he? Had he known longer than me? What plans did he harbor regarding the future, ours included? Most importantly: did he want this baby? Want us together to raise a family under these current conditions?

Time mocked my thinning patience as control slipped through my fingers like sand. Soon, the cracks would be impossible to ignore. When that dam finally burst, would our carefully constructed illusions survive the flood of reality? Or would we drown in the truth we'd tried so hard to contain?

Until then, though, pretending remained the safest route. Better to keep up appearances, to maintain the charade a little longer—before facing the harsh truths staring plainly back at us both. Before deciding the fates that rested heavily on our shoulders, choices that would dictate the paths ahead. Before accepting the responsibility that weighed down the soul, burdens pressing on the mind.

Then, days turned into weeks, and weeks stretched into months. Still, no direct acknowledgment passed between us regarding the elephant in the room. Or rather, the tiny human growing inside him. Yet, time wasn't infinite, and patience wore thin rapidly under the strain of uncertainty, tension, and doubt.

One morning, as I sat brooding over coffee, lost in thoughts swirling within my mind, Lucas stumbled into the kitchen, pale-faced and exhausted-looking. His hand flew instinctively to cover his mouth, stifling a yawn threatening to escape. Fuck, even his mannerisms changed drastically recently. Couldn't avoid noticing anymore.

"What are you doing up so early?"I asked gruffly, watching him as he poured himself a cup, hands trembling slightly around the mug, even though he was pretending everything was fine. Too nervous? Afraid? Something else entirely? Time to find out once and for all.

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