Page 49 of Breeding Justice

The safehouse was quiet. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the tension had thinned just enough to let exhaustion seep in.

I stretched my back as I made my way to the kitchen, the soft creak of the wooden floorboards the only sound in the darkened hallway. My throat was dry, and the faint hum of the fridge called to me like a lifeline. Bash had gone to bed, and the last time I saw Justice, she’d been curled against him on the couch, finally resting.

But when I stepped into the living room, I saw her.

Justice was lying on the couch, a thin blanket draped over her, Bash’s small gesture of care evident in the way it had been tucked around her shoulders. Her dark hair spilled across the cushion, a few strands clinging to the sheen of sweat on her temple. The faint glow from the baby monitor lit her face in soft, uneven pulses. She looked so fragile like this, her breathing shallow and steady, her hand resting lightly against her stomach.

But I knew better than anyone: Justice was far from fragile.

I hesitated, one hand gripping the edge of the doorway. I wasn’t sure if she was asleep or simply lost in thought, but something pulled me closer. Maybe it was the way her lips were slightly parted, like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the strength. Or maybe it was the memory of that moment when I thought I’d lost her for good.

Her eyes fluttered open as she turned on her side, wincing slightly when her gaze finally landed on me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, my voice low enough not to startle her.

For a second, there was no recognition, just the haze of exhaustion. Then she gave me a small, tired smile. “Just thinking.”

I stepped closer, my shadow stretching across the room. “Thinking about what?”

She shrugged, shifting slightly under the blanket. “Everything. SJ. Vito. You.”

The last word hit me harder than I expected. “Me?”

Justice nodded, her gaze flicking down to her hands. “I was so scared, Hassan. When I didn’t know if you made it out…” Her voice broke, and she shook her head, letting out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t stop imagining the worst.”

I sat down on the edge of the couch, careful not to disturb her. “I know the feeling,” I said softly. “When they took you…and then when Zane told me you’d been shot…” I trailed off, swallowing hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life.”

She reached for my hand, her fingers curling around mine. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “And you’re okay. That’s what matters.”

“Barely,” I murmured, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Justice, what if—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice trembling but resolute. “Don’t say it. We’re here. We’re alive. That’s enough.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken fears, but her grip on my hand didn’t waver.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, nodding toward her injury after a moment.

“It’s fine,” she said, though the wince that followed betrayed her.

Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers grazing her wrist. “Let me check.”

She sighed but didn’t protest as I gently pulled the blanket back. The loose shirt she wore hung low on her shoulder, exposing the edge of the bandage beneath. My hands worked carefully, unwrapping the dressing with practiced precision. The wound was clean, Zane’s work evident in the neatness of the stitches. Still, the sight of it twisted something deep in my chest.

“You’re healing,” I murmured, my thumb brushing her skin just below the edge of the wound. “But you need to rest. Properly.”

Justice’s eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the air between us felt heavier. Her lips parted as if to speak, but instead, she reached up, her fingers brushing the side of my face.

“You’ve barely rested,” she said softly, her voice tinged with accusation. “You need to get some sleep.”

I let out a low laugh. “It’s okay, doll. You know I’ve had more sleep for a lifetime than I know what to do with,” I said.

“I really don’t think it works that way.”

“Well, let’s find out,” I said, flashing her a toothy smile.

“That’s not the point,” she shot back, her brows knitting together. “You can’t just push through everything, Hassan. You’re not invincible.”

“Neither are you,” I countered, my voice sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened slightly, and I immediately softened. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if Zane hadn’t been there. If Bash hadn’t—”

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