Page 49 of Unleashed
“She had her twelve-week appointment, and I at least had to be in the same fucking building as her.” Anger rises again.
“It’s not safe. You know that.”
“I also know I should’ve been there in that room with her. I should have held her fucking hand, seen my…” I choke up, “seen our baby for the first time.” I should’ve heard my blood inside hers, proof that I’m not just violence but life too.
Nicoli exhales hard, the sound of a lighter flicking in the background, smoke already in his voice. “You’re risking too much, little brother. And I promise you it won’t be worth it when she gets hurt.”
“Don’t—” My voice cracks, fury and grief twisting together. “Don’t throw that in my face.”
“I’m not throwing it. I’m reminding you. You think standing in a waiting room holding her hand is what she needs? She needs to live, Isaia. She needs to bring that baby into this world breathing, screaming, safe. And you need to make sure that happens.”
I press the phone hard against my ear, jaw clenched. My throat burns with words I don’t want to say. “I saw her, Nicoli. In the elevator. I touched her.”
Silence on the line. Heavy, judging. “You fucking didn’t.”
“I did.” My voice is hoarse, raw, dripping with the truth. “And it damn near killed me to walk away.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe this will motivate you. There’s been another murder.”
Barbed wire twists into my gut. “What?”
“Caelian was just about to call you. He’s pissed as fuck, by the way. Can’t believe you stole his car.”
I start the engine and slam into reverse. “Send me the address. I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have to be here. We’ve got it under?—”
“My wife’s carrying my kid and living in some shoebox apartment, going to doctors alone, and you want me to sit this out? I’m catching this fucker so I can get my motherfucking life back.”
He remains silent.
“Nicoli!” I bark.
“Fine. I’ll text you the address.”
I hang up, ripping the car into drive, and tear across the asphalt. For three weeks I’ve been circling her shadow, watching, starving, wondering if she still aches for me. Today, she proved she does. One touch and I felt it. One gasp and I knew. So I’ll catch this motherfucker, gut him, and burn whatever’s left. I’ll clear the board until there’s no threat left standing.
Then I’ll take her back.
A. S. A. Fucking. P.
Chapter 17
EVERLY
The apartment smells faintly of coffee and vanilla candles when I step inside, though my knees are still weak from Isaia’s touch, my skin still burning where his breath ghosted my neck.
Molly is sprawled across the couch, hair in a messy knot, paintbrush in one hand, toenails a violent shade of hot pink. She glances up, takes one look at me, and her grin slips.
“Jesus, Everly,” she says, tossing the brush into the polish bottle and sitting up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything okay with the baby?”
I freeze in the doorway, heat crawling up my neck. My throat goes dry. “The baby’s fine.”
Molly narrows her eyes, sharp as a hawk. Then she pats the cushion beside her. “Come here, Beaumont. Spill it.”
I drop my bag with a thud, drag myself across the room, and sink onto the couch. The second I sit, Molly tucks her legs under herself and shifts close, her hand pressing over mine. Noquestions, not at first. Just steady warmth, like she’s letting me know I don’t have to carry whatever this is alone.
For a moment, I almost cry. “I heard the baby’s heartbeat today.”
