Page 134 of Iris' Lying Eyes

I didn’t know Finnen was my father until he approached me two years ago. At first, his ramblings didn’t make sense, but I felt the first stirrings of hope in a long time. His promises were too sweet to pass up, and I fell for the man who should have been my greatest protector.

Instead, he tore my world apart. Battling John, who dangled Sam before me like a piece of meat, was hard enough, but when Finnen showed up one day with a picture of Baby Girl, I knew I was fucked.

How could I appease both of my fathers without risking my babies? I had no choice. I pitted them all against each other, and I carried out Finnen’s weird demands, praying every single fucking day that somehow, I would catch a break.

I thought pulling Liberty from that hole would bring down John. Wrong.

I thought telling McCafferty everything would end the horror. Wrong.

I hoped Finnen had an ounce of love for his long-lost daughter. Wrong.

I killed Roman. I put John in that hole. I killed Finnen McCafferty.

I’m not sad they’re gone. Each, in their own way, carried out evil. They deserved what they got but I know my scheming when it comes to Roman might come between B and me.

At least, Liberty is presumably free, although Ramsay hasn’t called to confirm. I suspect he stepped in to protect Diem from the fallout, which makes me wonder what’s going on. But not enough to embroil myself in another mess. Well, beyond whatever info Ramsay wanted.

Unfortunately, I’ll have to see this last deal through to the end.

“You’re awake,” the nurse says, breaking me from my thoughts when she enters with a smile.

“Hm,” I mumble, glancing at Bastion, who must be exhausted because he doesn’t stir.

“You were lucky. The bullet didn’t hit any major organs. God must have been looking down at you, little lady.”

Eyeing her dubiously, I grunt. Did I mention I hate cheery fucking people?

She continues on, immune to my frown. “The doctor will be in to speak with you soon. In the meantime, I have some instructions in case the pregnancy is at risk.”

“The—what?” I ask dumbly. Is this bitch in the right room?

“Yes, Miss O’Malley. He didn’t detect anything to worry about, but with all the stress…”

“I’m not pregnant,” I rasp. “It’s not possible.”

“Oh,” she says, smiling sheepishly. “I thought you knew. We’ll monitor you while you’re here—”

“It’s not possible,” I repeat, and she cocks her head before stepping to the computer and typing rapidly. Closing my eyes, I huff out a breath, annoyed that she’s interfering with my alone time, when she turns to me and says, “I don’t know what to tell you. You’re pregnant.”

I don’t hear a damn thing she says after that. I’m simultaneously cold and sweaty. Part of me is also overjoyed because I have life growing inside of me, and this is a new start, but what will B think?

I guess it doesn’t matter. I have to think of him or her.

After hours of staring at the ceiling, Bastion finally stirs. When he raises his head and meets my gaze, my heart thumps, but I ignore it. If what he said was true, the baby shouldn’t matter, right?

“Iris,” he says huskily, grabbing my hand. “How do you feel?”

“Shitty,” I murmur, and he squeezes my fingers.

“I’ll call the nurse.”

“No!” I grab his arm, and he pauses, eyeing me strangely.

“What?”

Dropping my head, I flex my fingers before letting him go. Now what?

“Um,” I say, staring at my cuticles. This is harder than it should be, but I’m not about to back down now.

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