Page 114 of The Hermit

“It’s because I had a long break.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “And I have you at my side.”

Chapter 30

DOMINIK

(Three months later…)

As the speedboat approaches the tunnel, there’s a sense of pride as I stare up at the alliance’s insignia above the entrance.

The initials V, C, D, T, and O are carved onto a tarot card-themed design. There are two guns at the top, two knives at the bottom, and a rose with a snake curling around the stem in the middle.

It’s not exactly my taste, but it’s what Santiago wanted.

Alan steers us into the tunnel and finds a spot near the stairs where he docks.

“I’m excited to see the final result,” Grace says. “So much work has gone into the sanctuary.”

I get off the boat first, then carefully help my pregnant wife onto solid land.

Not wanting Grace out in the heat for a second longer than necessary, I say, “Let’s get you into the building so you can cool down.”

“I’m fine,” she chuckles while mindlessly rubbing her hand over her beautiful baby bump.

When we reach the top of the stairs, Evinka signs, “I’m going to check the surveillance setup.”

I nod, and while she and Alan head toward the security building, I guide Grace to the fortress, which she likes to call the sanctuary.

The builders managed to keep most of the trees and only removed the ones that were absolutely necessary. There are paths leading to all the main sections, and golf carts and quad bikes for when anyone has to travel to the other side of the island where we’ve built accomodation for our soldiers and staff.

Only the alliance members will get to stay in the fortress.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea makes my stomach churn, and I hurry Grace into the building and straight to the restrooms situated near the entrance. Not giving a shit that it’s marked for women only, I go in with her, and we’re just in time before she loses the lunch I managed to get into her.

I rub her back, wishing she didn’t have morning sickness.

Since it started, we figured out that I have what’s called couvade syndrome. When her morning sickness gets really bad, I always feel nauseous, which I’m now using as a warning sign to get her to the nearest toilet as fast as possible.

The doctor said it’s because I have anxiety about Grace being pregnant, which is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I say it’s because I love her so much that she’s ingrained in my soul and we’re in complete sync with each other.

When she straightens up again, I ask, “Better?”

She nods as we leave the stall, and I let her rinse out her mouth before I pull her into a hug.

I love feeling her baby bump press against me, and as I rub her side the way she loves, I say, “We can take a look around later. I think you should go lie down for an hour or so.”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. The boat ride to the island just made it a little worse.” When we walk out of the restroom, she asks, “Do you think I can get a glass of lemon water?”

“Of course.” I take her hand and pull her toward the back, where a small restaurant has been built in an encased garden.

The moment the grounds manager spots me, he rushes toward us. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Varga. I look forward to serving you in any way possible.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “My wife wants a glass of freshly squeezed lemon water. Lots of crushed ice.”

“Immediately, Sir.”

He hurries away while I lead Grace to a table situated in the shade of a tree.

“Sit down,milácik.”

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