Page 63 of Corrupt Princess

It was just a dream… wasn’t it?

But even as I think those words, I know they’re not true.

It wasn’t just a dream.

It’s reality.

That’s why I did what I did.

I was trying to get to Calli.

I’m on my feet before I realise I’ve made a decision and I’m storming out of my flat.

Ignoring the lift, I fly down the stairs much like I did the night I stopped Brianna from leaving. Only this time, I have a different target in mind.

Pressing my trembling hand to the biometric scanner, I shove the door open the second the green light flashes at me and storm into the flat, the door crashing back against the wall behind me.

It’s not until I come to a stop in the middle of the living room that I realise it’s dark.

What fucking time is it?

I’m still pondering that question when a door opens and I find myself on the wrong end of Daemon’s gun.

“Nico, the fuck?” he barks when he recognises me a beat later and thankfully lowers his piece instead of firing off the clip into my head.

“Nico?” Calli asks sleepily before emerging behind her boyfriend.

She hits the light switch, making them both wince as the brightness sears into their eyes and allows me to see my sister standing there, wearing one of Daemon’s wide-armed tanks.

Fuck my life.

“What the hell is going on?” Calli demands, hesitantly stepping a little closer.

Guilt is etched into her expression. Without me saying a word, she knows that I know.

My fists curl as my anger surges forward, a move that Daemon doesn’t miss. He steps up behind my sister and wraps his free arm around her shoulders, not releasing his piece in the other.

“Y-you’re,” I stutter like an idiot. “You’re p-preg—”

Calli’s sob cuts my words off, and before I know what’s happening, she’s broken free from Daemon’s protective hold and thrown herself into my body.

My arms wrap around her on instinct, one hand holding the back of her head, the other on her back as she trembles against me.

“It’s okay, Cal,” I whisper against the top of her head before my eyes find Daemon’s just a few feet away.

He’s finally put his gun down and crossed his arms over his scarred chest as he leans against the wall.

“I should be the one pointing the gun at your head,” I growl as the weight of this situation presses down on my shoulder.

“But you won’t,” he states confidently.

“You seem a little too sure about that, Deimos.”

“Of course I am. She loves me and she’s carrying our little blob.”

All the air rushes out of my lungs as he confirms my dream.

“It’s really true?”

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