Philli

ttered it. They echoed in the dead space of my mind, a son

gna

ring at the beige wall. Outside the small window, the city lights of New York glittered,

stomach. It was flat, unchanged. But

, suffocating pain. A child. Jaxon's child. The child of the man wh

d, and I had to swallow a surge of bile. This baby wasn't a blessing. It

ld end it. It was early. A simple procedure. I could eras

nd protective. This wasn't just his child. This was *my* child. A part o

vanilla and paint thinner. *You are the only good, pure thing in my life, Alina,* she'd told me once, h

affection? Would they grow up walking on eggshells, desperately trying to earn the love of a father who

o

a silent scre

N

ugh me, burning away the weakness, the fear, the heartbreak. A primal, powerful will to survive ignited in my

to get

ind a place where he could never find us, a place where I could give my child the one

the first time all night, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. B

ng breath and wiped the

ontrol. He would never let me go. A direct escape was

arter. I had t

ad to crawl back to him, beg for his forgiveness, and make him believe he had

him, of letting him touch me, made my stomach roil.

His name on the screen was a brand, seared into

ed a broken expression. I cleared my throat, forcing all the hatred and

ressed th

g only

ith an authority that used to make me fe

one last breath, and

and full of a regret I did not feel. "You