Page 65 of Claimed By the Damned

Shit.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my voice to sound normal. “I’m fine.”

A beat of silence. “That didn’t sound fine.”

I groan, resting my forehead against the toilet seat. Of all the men here, whyhim? Ethan might brush it off as bad food. Ryker would probably joke about my cooking. But Bastian? He misses nothing.

The door creaks open.Shit, I forgot to lock it.

His measured footsteps enter. Of course, he checked. Couldn’t just let me suffer in peace.

“Lila.” His tone shifts—softer, but firm. “Are you sick?”

I force myself upright, wiping my hand across my mouth. “It’s nothing. I just…” I swallow hard, willing my stomach to settle. “Maybe just stress.”

His gaze locks onto mine, assessing, calculating. He doesn't believe me.

“You look pale,” he observes. “And you barely ate yesterday.”

My pulse kicks up.Dammit, Bastian.

“I wasn’t hungry.” I push to my feet, gripping the counter to steady myself. “Not a crime, is it?”

He tilts his head, watching me like a puzzle. “Not a crime,” he concedes. “But unusual for you.”

I swallow, throat dry. He’s not letting this go. I need to get out before he presses harder, asking questions I cannot answer. Mygaze flicks to the toothbrush and paste on the counter. The acrid taste in my mouth is damning evidence.

Turning my back to him for a second, I quickly squeeze paste onto the brush and scrub furiously at my teeth, rinsing and spitting in record time.

Still facing the sink, I grip the edge, forcing a deep breath before turning back around. I force a smile, hoping he didn't notice the frantic haste. “I’m fine, Bastian. Just need some fresh air.”

His jaw tightens as if he wants to argue, but after a moment, he exhales through his nose and nods. “Alright.” His gaze lingers as I slip past him.

I know he doesn’t believe me.

But, neither do I.

My hands tremble as I stand before Grim’s door, my stomach churning with something far worse than nausea. I don’t know how to ask him for this. If I even can. But I have no choice. If I’m right—if this is really happening—I can't handle it alone.

I swallow hard and knock twice.

The door swings open almost instantly, as if he expected me. His sharp gaze sweeps over me, reading every tell I fight to hide. “What?”

I hesitate.Back out now, Lila.But the nerve might vanish forever.

“I need to add a stop on the way to work,” I say quietly. “And I need younotto ask questions or tell the guys.”

His brow lifts. “That’s a hell of an ask, princess.”

“Please, Grim.” My voice cracks, raw with desperation I hate revealing. “It’s important.”

His expression shifts subtly. Grim rarely shows softness or concern, but he recognizes desperation when he sees it. Whatever flickering panic he detects in my eyes is enough. He nods once. “Get your shit. We leave in ten.”

Relief washes over me, so sharp it’s almost painful.

As we step outside, I take a deep breath. "Grim, can you take me to the doctor? I think I need to see someone.”

The drive is silent, thick with unspoken tension. The further we get from the house, the heavier the dread becomes.This is happening.

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