Page 62 of Breeding Justice

The weight in my chest grew heavier, denser, like a star collapsing in on itself. Vito was still out there, and SJ was still in danger. I couldn’t let myself forget that. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, tracing imaginary cracks with my finger. We’d been here before, in this exact spot, thinking we were done for. And each time, we’d found a way through. This time had to be the same. It just had to.

I heard a rustle and looked over to see Skylar stirring. He disentangled himself from Zane with the groggy precision of someone used to waking in strange positions. Stretching, he caught my eye and gave a small, tired smile. I beckoned him over.

He padded across the room and slid in next to me on the sofa, careful not to jostle my side. For a moment, we just sat there, the silence speaking for us. Then he put an arm around my shoulder, gently, and I leaned into him. Skylar’s presence was grounding, a reminder of the bonds we shared and the strength we needed to face what was coming.

"We’ll get him back," Skylar said, his voice a rough whisper.

"I know," I lied.

We sat like that for a while, taking what comfort we could from each other. The storm outside the safehouse was still distant, but we could see the lightning, hear the low rumble of thunder. It was coming for us, and we would have to face it soon.

But not just yet.

A small noise from the bedroom caught my attention as water dripped from my hair. I held my breath, listening. The house was still, but for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of settling wood. I tightened the towel around my chest and walked toward the bedroom, each step a cautious inquiry.

My heart did a stupid little flip when I saw SJ stirring, his tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. He looked so much like Bash at that age, the same stubborn jawline, the same mop of unruly hair. The second he saw me, he grinned, and something inside me unknotted. I was afraid he'd forgotten me.

I picked him up carefully, mindful of my wound, and cradled him against my chest. He babbled something in toddler-speak, too sleepy to form real words, and nuzzled into my shoulder. The warmth of his little body seeped into me, dissolving the cold core of fear that had taken up residence in my heart.

This was why I fought. Why I killed. Why I had to finish this.

SJ started to drift back to sleep, his breathing slow and rhythmic. I kissed the top of his head and held him a little tighter. We were in so deep, and the only way out was through.

Vito was still breathing. But not for much longer.

I swayed gently, rocking SJ as he slept. We would have to move soon, to make a plan, to take the next step. But for this one stolen moment, I let myself believe that everything would be okay. That we would win. That SJ would grow up safe and loved.

I heard footsteps approaching me and looked up to see Bash staring at us. “He’s alright?” Bash asked.

I nodded, a soft smile tugging at my lips despite the exhaustion settling deep in my bones. "Yeah. He's good. For now."

Bash stepped closer, his usual swagger muted by the weight of too many sleepless nights. His eyes, dark and sharp, softened as they lingered on SJ. He reached out hesitantly, brushing a hand over the little boy's hair, his fingers gentle and reverent in a way that didn’t match the rough, unyielding man most people knew.

"He trusts you," Bash murmured, almost to himself.

I sighed. "He doesn't have much choice, does he?"

Bash shook his head. "He could have given up. Kids feel it when the people around them are broken. But he’s still fighting, same as us. Maybe better."

The words hung between us, their truth undeniable. SJ was a survivor. We all were, but he deserved more than just survival. He deserved a future, one free from the blood and violence that defined our world.

"I hate that he has to grow up in this," I whispered. "That he has to be tough just to stay alive."

Bash crouched in front of me, his gaze steady and grounding. "We’re gonna change that. We’ve been fighting just to stay breathing, but now... now we fight for him. For all of us."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. Bash was right. This wasn’t just about staying alive anymore. It was about making sure SJ had a chance to live without fear, without Vito looming over him like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

“How do we do that?”

Bash shrugged. “First, we take care of Vito. Then, I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”

I sighed, looking at Sebastian. “Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know. I hope you’re right.”

Chapter Twenty-Five: Bash

The safehouse had taken on a war room feel, maps spread across the table, each line and marker a promise of blood. Phones lay between them, silent but looming. I watched as the crew gathered, the tension among us as thick as the humid air outside. Skylar and Zane sat close, a united front, while Justice leaned against Hassan, her wound barely slowing her down. SJ gnawed on a piece of bread in the corner, blissfully unaware of the storm we were about to unleash.

"We hit his supply chain. We take out his operations before he gets a chance to retaliate." I laid out the plan, making sure every word landed with the weight it deserved. The moment felt like a held breath, each of them waiting to exhale until I finished. "We use Moretti to set the bait."

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