Page 9 of Breeding Justice

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired.”

Bash’s gaze lingered on me, his dark eyes searching. He wasn’t the type to call me out on a lie, but I knew he saw right through it. He always did. Still, he gave a small nod, as if to say he’d let it slide—for now.

The truth was, I wasn’t fine. Not even close. My mind kept circling back to a gnawing realization I’d been trying to bury since the moment we were dragged into this hellhole. I was late. Not just a little late, either. Weeks late.

At first, I’d chalked it up to the stress. After all, being in a constant state of fight-or-flight could wreak havoc on your body. But as the days turned into weeks, that excuse stopped holding water. I hadn’t told Bash or Skylar—or anyone—because what would be the point? I wasn’t even sure yet, and even if I was, what good would it do to drop that bomb in the middle of this nightmare?

But now, sitting here, tied to a chair with the possibility of being separated from Bash and Skylar—and SJ—the reality of it hit me like a freight train. If I was pregnant, what kind of world would this child be born into? A world where their mother was a prisoner, their father a man constantly fighting to stay one step ahead of death, and their older brother already a pawn in a deadly game.

I shifted in my chair, trying to ease the pressure on my wrists. The ropes bit into my skin, grounding me in the moment. This wasn’t the time to spiral. I had to stay focused.

Skylar broke the silence, his voice sharp and impatient. “I hate waiting. It’s bloody boring.”

“You’d hate the alternative more,” Bash rumbled. His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it—a warning.

Skylar rolled his eyes, the smirk creeping back onto his face. “You think? At least the alternative’s got a bit of action. This whole sitting-around thing? Not my style.”

“You think any of this is our style?” I snapped, my voice cutting through the tension. Both men turned their attention to me, but I didn’t back down. “We’re all in the same boat here, Skylar. None of us want to be sitting around waiting for Vito’s next move. But unless you’ve got a secret key to these ropes, maybe shut up and let us think.”

For a second, Skylar just stared at me, his icy eyes narrowing. Then, to my surprise, he chuckled. “Alright, Justice. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“She’s always had it in her,” Bash said, his voice steady. “You’d notice if you stopped running your mouth for five seconds.”

“I notice everything about her,” Skylar said, looking me up and down, then smiling. “And it is delicious.”

I wanted to rub my temples. My headache was getting worse. But I did no such thing. “I told Hassan to run with SJ. No one’s coming to save us. That’s why we can’t let them split us up.”

The quiet settled over us again, heavy and suffocating. My mind went back to the guards’ conversation. Moving us. Separately. That wasn’t just bad; it was catastrophic. Alone, none of us stood a chance. Together, we had a slim shot at survival. But apart?

I leaned toward Bash as much as the ropes allowed. “We can’t let them split us up.”

He nodded, his expression grim. “I know.”

“How do we stop them?” I asked. “We’re tied up. We’ve got nothing.”

“Not nothing,” he said. “We’ve got our wits. And we’ve got Skylar.”

Skylar perked up at that, his smirk turning razor-sharp. “Oh, now you want my help. What’s the plan, boss? Want me to charm our way out?”

Bash shot him a look, the kind that could silence even Skylar for a moment. “No. But if they come in here again, we’ll need a distraction.”

Skylar grinned, and it wasn’t a nice grin. “Distractions I can do.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “Whatever you’re planning, just…don’t push it too far.”

Skylar tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Relax, pet. I’m not planning on dying today. That would be terribly inconvenient. ”

And…he wanted to see Zane again.

That, I was sure of.

I wasn’t convinced that he would be okay, but there was no stopping him when he got that look in his eye. Bash leaned toward me again, his voice so low I had to strain to hear it. “If it gets bad, I want you to run.”

“Run where?” I hissed. “We’re tied to chairs, Bash.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, his tone firm. “If there’s an opening, take it. Don’t wait for us. Just go.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening. He meant it. He’d sacrifice himself if it meant giving me a chance to escape. “I’m not leaving without you.”

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