Page 54 of Property of Spike

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m still in it. At least until Asher is back in my arms.”

Abby reaches out, gripping my hand tightly. “But you’re fighting. That’s what matters.”

I nod, squeezing her hand in return. “And I’m going to keep fighting. No matter what it takes.”

Abby watches me for a moment before whispering, “Then I will, too.”

It’s quiet between us, but for the first time, there’s an understanding. A connection forged in pain but strengthened by survival.

Before I can say anything else, the sound of an engine approaching the compound makes my heart stop. I shoot to my feet, my pulse pounding.

“They’re back,” I whisper, my legs already carrying me toward the door.

Abby follows closely behind, and as I throw open the door and step outside, my breath catches in my throat.

Spike is walking toward me, and in his arms, wrapped in a small blanket, is my son.

I fall to my knees in relief as every ounce of strength leaves my body.

“Fuck baby,” he says, rushing to my side. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

I don’t take my eyes off Asher as Spike helps me back on my feet and ushers me inside. I don’t reach for my son. I don’t dare touch him for fear that it’s all in my head.

Once in his office, Spike guides me to the couch, but my eyes remain locked on Asher. He’s right there. So close I can reach out and touch him, but my hands tremble at the thought.

Spike kneels in front of me, his voice softer now. “Riley, he’s okay. He’s real. Take him.”

My fingers curl into my palms as I shake my head. “What if he’s not?” My voice is barely a whisper. “What if I’m dreaming?”

A soft sound comes from the bundle in Spike’s arms. A tiny whimper followed by a content sigh.

Spike presses him into my arms, and as I cradle my son, I feel the weight of him…solid, warm, real.

I pull him close, my hands trembling as I touch his soft skin. He’s so small, so fragile, but so perfect.

“Shh,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Mommy’s here. I’ve got you.”

Asher makes a small, muffled sound, his little fists gripping the fabric of my shirt, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

Spike hovers close, his hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “He’s real, Riley. He’s safe. He’s unharmed. He’s home.”

I nod, my chest aching with relief, but beneath that relief, a spark of something darker simmers. Anger.

“He’ll try to come after him again,” I say, my voice steady despite the surge of fear.

Spike shakes his head. “He put a tracker in the boy’s diaper. I double-checked to make sure he was clean before bringing him home.” His jaw tightens. “Bones drove us past a bus stop to ditch the diaper with the tracker. Hopefully, that’ll make him think you’ve left.”

“Hopefully,” I nod, but I can feel the weight of uncertainty hanging over me. “But it won’t work forever. I can’t stay hidden here. I have to leave these walls eventually. I need to find a job to take care of my son. I need daycare. I need somewhere to live…” My voice trails off as I freeze, suddenly aware of the way Spike is looking at me.

Spike’s eyes narrow, his voice lowering to a dangerous level. “It seems I haven’t been clear enough,” he says, his tone almost cold with a hint of anger. “You and Asher belong to me. That means I’ll supply you with everything your fucking heart desires. I’ll take care of both of you in all ways. You don’t need a fucking job. You don’t need a fucking place to live. You don’t need a fucking sitter. All you need to do is stay by my fucking side and let me handle everything.”

I blink a few times, taking in his words, and can’t help but smirk. “That was a lot of ‘fuckings’,” I say, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Spike doesn’t smile, his gaze still intense, but I can feel the shift in the room. I cuddle Asher closer, helping to calm my nerves.

“I was with Chuck for a long time,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “But even though we lived together, I never really felt like I was in a relationship. Not the kind of relationship where someone actually cares for you. Not one where I mattered. With him, it was always about what he wanted and how he could control me. And I... I got used to it. But not in a healthy way.”

I swallow hard, trying to put words to something I don’t fully understand myself.

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