Page 42 of Breeding Justice

I wouldn’t let Hassan down, either. Not this time. Never again.

As the miles passed, the dense forests gave way to the outskirts of Naples. The landscape shifted to small clusters of houses and empty streets, the quiet growing heavier with every block. My gaze never left the windows, scanning for anything out of place. Every shadow felt like a threat, every flicker of movement set my nerves on edge.

“It looks quiet,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it.

“Too quiet,” Hassan muttered, his eyes flicking from one side of the road to the other. “You sure the safehouse is still secure?”

I nodded, though doubt churned in my gut. “It should be,” I said. “But we’ll know for sure once we’re inside.”

SJ stirred in the backseat, letting out a soft sound before settling again. Hassan glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his usually hardened features softening for a moment. “He’s been a trooper,” he said. “Not a single cry, even with all of this.”

I turned to look at the baby, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I think the drive is lulling him to sleep.”

Hassan didn’t respond, but I could see his jaw relax slightly. Despite everything, SJ had a way of grounding us both, reminding us of what mattered most. He always had, ever since he had come into our lives. And we had done our best to protect him—but fuck, it had been so hard. His grandfather had made it so hard.

The safehouse came into view as we turned a corner, its unremarkable exterior blending seamlessly with the quiet neighborhood. My heart picked up, and I scanned every window, every shadow, for signs of trouble.

Hassan slowed the car to a crawl, his body tense with readiness. “We’re close,” he said, his voice low.

“We don’t know who might be watching,” I replied, already calculating our next steps. “We need to get in and out fast.”

The car rolled to a stop at the curb, and Hassan killed the engine. The two of us sat in silence, our eyes darting to every corner of the street. In the backseat, SJ whimpered softly, but it was a small, fleeting sound.

“You ready?” Hassan asked, his voice steady.

I nodded, my hand already on the door handle. “Let’s go.”

We exited the car in unison, moving with practiced efficiency. Hassan took the lead, his broad frame tense as he scanned the area. I fell into step behind him, my eyes locked on the front door of the safehouse.

As we approached, my pulse quickened. I didn’t know what we’d find inside—or who. All I could do was hope that Justice, Skylar and Bash were waiting for us, safe and alive.

The car ticked to a stop outside the safehouse, its engine cooling in the heavy silence. The building looked just as I remembered—unremarkable, designed to blend in with the quiet neighborhood. The lone street lamp out front cast long, jagged shadows across the yard, adding an eerie edge to the already tense atmosphere.

Hassan killed the lights and glanced over at me. “We made it,” he said, his deep voice steady, though I could hear the tension beneath it.

I didn’t respond. My focus was locked on the safehouse, my heart pounding in my chest. Fear and hope waged a quiet war inside me. Were they alive? Injured? Were Skylar and Justice inside, waiting for us? How bad was Justice’s injury?

The uncertainty gnawed at me, fraying the edges of my usually steady resolve.

Hassan sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken worry, and pushed his door open. The quiet creak of the hinges cut through the night. I followed his lead, stepping out into the cool air, my senses on high alert. My eyes swept the perimeter, scanning for anything out of place. The street was silent, but I knew better than to trust appearances. Danger had a way of hiding in the quietest corners.

“Let’s not get SJ out yet,” I said. “Let me scope the place out first.”

Hassan nodded. “You got it.”

Every step I took toward the front door felt heavier than the last. My legs felt like lead, my mind racing with possibilities—worst-case scenarios I couldn’t seem to shake. I thought of Hassan, but my thoughts always circled back to Skylar and Justice. This could be the moment everything shattered.

I raised a hand to knock, but before I could, the door swung open. Skylar stood there, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. I froze, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us like a physical barrier.

Then, as if a cord snapped, Skylar lunged forward, pulling me into a fierce embrace. For a moment, I was too stunned to move, but then my arms wrapped around him, holding on like my life depended on it. His scent—something sharp, clean, and unmistakably him—flooded my senses. Relief hit me like a tidal wave, and I gripped his back tightly, my hands trembling.

“Thank God,” I whispered into his ear, my voice cracking. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Skylar pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression softening in a way I rarely saw. “We’re okay for now,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion. Despite everything, there was affection in his gaze, a reassurance I desperately needed.

I nodded, studying him for a moment. He looked worn—his hair disheveled, his sharp features etched with fatigue, scrapes all over him—but alive. That was all that mattered. I glanced over my shoulder to see Hassan lingering near the car, watching us. He didn’t move, his broad frame silhouetted against the streetlamp’s dim light, his expression unreadable.

“We need to get inside,” I said, though I made no move to let go of Skylar.

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