Page 31 of New Year with the Cartel

He was going to hate me even more than he already did, but that was okay. Again, he would learn soon.

"Set up the medical equipment," I ordered, already planning ahead. "I want daily checkups on both him and the baby. No chances this time."

This was the right decision, I told myself. The necessary one. Gustall might despise me now even more than before, but again, he'd understand eventually. They all did, in the end. Or at least, they learned to accept it.

But as I walked back toward the compound, leaving our unfinished game behind, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life. This feeling surfaced before in similar situations.

I couldn't help but think that in trying to prevent history from repeating itself, I'd ensured exactly that outcome.

No. I shook off the doubt. This time would be different. This time, I wouldn't fail. This time, I'd keep what was mine, no matter the cost. I had to.

Even if that cost was Gustall's love.

The security feed on my phone showed him sitting on the bed in his new room, hands cradling our child. His lips moved in what looked like a prayer, or maybe a promise. I switched off the feed. I couldn't bear to watch, not now.

Plus, I knew he would be okay. I just needed to give him some time. Tempers were running high at the moment, but soon he would be calm and feeling better.

This was necessary, I repeated to myself. Necessary and temporary. Once the baby was born, once they were both safe, he'd understand. He'd forgive me.

He had to.

Because if he didn't, if this really was the mistake Gustall claimed it was, then I'd just proven everything he feared about me. And that was a truth I wasn't ready to face.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Chapter 17

Gustall

Three weeks had passed since the golf course. Three weeks in this cage that Fendwyr called protection. Protection, yeah right. He did that just to make himself feel better.

The room was luxurious, I had to admit—plush carpet, comfortable bed, even a small library. But it was still a prison, and I was still a prisoner. I hated staying in one place for long periods; it made me feel paranoid.

I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching raindrops trace patterns on the bulletproof glass. My reflection showed how much I'd changed: dark circles under my eyes, hollow cheeks despite the carefully planned meals they brought me. The baby bump was more prominent now, a constant reminder of why I was here.

No matter what they tried doing to make me feel better here, it would never work.

"Your breakfast, sir." The daily routine began with Marcus, one of Fendwyr's most trusted men, bringing my morning meal. He was always polite, always careful, as if handling something fragile. I hated it.

I wanted him to treat me as the person I was, not as the person he thought I was.

"I'm not hungry." The morning sickness had mostly passed, but depression had taken its place. I went from bad to worse. Some days, I could barely get out of bed.

"The doctor insists you need to eat." Marcus set the tray down. "For the baby."

Always for the baby. Everything was for the baby now. Fendwyr visited daily, touching my stomach, talking about our future, and acting as if this was normal. As if keeping me locked up was an act of love rather than control. And in the meantime, I saw myself becoming like Elias more and more.

"Fine." I turned from the window, catching something odd in Marcus's movement as he arranged the plates. A small piece of paper, slipped under the napkin. My heart raced, but I kept my face neutral.

Whatever it was, it was important, and I didn't know if I was going to like it or not.

"The boss will visit after his morning meetings," Marcus informed me. "He wants to know if you need anything."

Freedom, I thought bitterly. Trust. A mate who understood the difference between love and possession, but I didn't think he would anytime soon.

"No," I said aloud. "Nothing."

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