Page 55 of Vow of Vengeance
“Oh?”
I stand slowly, doing my best not to wake her as I slide off the hospital bed. I walk to the door and flip the lock securely in place, then make my way to the bathroom. I don’t lock this door.I don’t even shut it. I leave it open just enough that I can see her, so serene under the little bit of light over her head. Like a fucking angel. She’s innocence, corrupted by a man who was supposed to cherish her. I’ve corrupted her a little more since I’ve known her.
I turn the sink on and let it run straight down the drain, the sound enough to cover my words just in case she happens to wake.
“I learned something about her past. Something I’m worried about having an impact on her health, which may not have shown up on previous checks.”
“What is it?” Dr. Kent asks.
I brace my hand against the porcelain sink, gripping so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter and send water spraying everywhere.
“Her ex,” I grit my jaw, refusing to give him the title husband. He never fucking deserved that honor. “He trafficked her. Drugged her repeatedly, let people come pay to use her while she was too out of it to know what was going on.”
He’s silent a moment. “That’s a very serious accusation, Declan. She told you this?”
I laugh, though it’s not because anything about the moment or situation strikes me as funny. “I witnessed it. He recorded the assaults… hundreds of them.”
My voice cracks, and I take a jagged breath. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to unsee it, either. Soren, so tiny and helpless, vulnerable. She trusted that the one person who wasn’t supposed to hurt her would keep her safe. She trusted that her own home was a safe space that no one would violate.
The new information certainly gives more credence to what could have happened the night Vin died, why she can’t remember almost anything about it. Was it just another night with a paying client that went wrong? If so, is there footage of the murder?
“Does she know what he used?”
“She doesn’t know.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “And she won’t. Her brain doesn’t need any more trauma to unpack. I just need to know if there could be any lasting effects? Anything we didn’t look for before?”
“I ran extensive tests the first time we had her blood analyzed. And looking at her most recent results, I don’t see anything too concerning. Her iron is a little too low for this point in pregnancy, so you’ll want to work on that, but without knowing what he drugged her with, I can’t say there’s any outward indicators of any health concerns.”
I blink, my spine straightening as my brain tries to replay his words to make sure that I heard him right.
“Of course, that doesn’t exclude organ damage. Liver, heart, kidneys… you need ultrasound or MRI to check for anything else. But without suspicion of something being wrong, it’s not like we can explain those tests away to justify them being done.”
Dr. Kent is still prattling on, but whatever he’s said since the wordpregnancyhas gone straight over my head.
“Pregnant?” I say slowly, gently, like the word will dissolve on my tongue if I’m not careful, taking away all possibility of it being real.
“Yes. Her HCG levels are consistent with a first trimester pregnancy. Did you not know?”
I didn’t.
I knew that I was going for this.
I knew that I’ve been obsessing over the idea of her small body softening with a second life.
I knew that I’ve been feeding her a specific diet to help her gain weight and improve her chances of conception. I knew the tea I’ve been making for her twice a day was said to be a miracle brew. But I did not know that she was pregnant. And I know she didn’t either.
I wanted this, sure, but it became a passive thing. I fucked her good and hard and often, pushed my cum back inside when it started to leak out of her glistening pussy, gave her all the things that would help her body prepare for this. But it was static in the background, not something I had to spend every moment of my life obsessing over.
The reality feels different than I thought it would. Particularly since that is not how I’d expected to find out. I imagined her taking a test and having to wait, anxiously, for the results. I imagined her planning how to tell me. I imagined her knowing first.
But I suppose this is fair. I know her body better than she does, anyway.
It’s why I know I won’t be telling her about this. Not yet.
My sweet, pregnant fiancé. She hasn’t let me make her my wife yet because she needs Marissa to be there when I do. She’ll need Marissa there when she finds out she’s pregnant too. I won’t let her learn about this until then.
Will she be happy? Will she cry? Will she be scared, when she realizes that this tethers us together for the rest of our lives? She agreed to this, whether in absolute clarity or in desperation to reclaim what she lost, but the reality may be different than whatever she thought it would be. And elated or not, afraid or not, she’ll need to share those feelings with someone other than me or Georgia. It sure as fuck won’t be Khan.
I refuse to watch my future wife be gutted all over again at the realization that she can’t share the news with her best friend.
