"He’s still your son," Cohen notes.
"Not anymore," I snarl. "The baby Blair’s carrying is my future. Ryder is just a tumor I should’ve cut out years ago."
I end the call without a goodbye, too pissed off to say anything more.
Air fills my lungs, doing little to cool the fire in my blood. Adjusting the cuffs of my shirt forces the monster back into its cage. Blair doesn't need the monster right now. She needs the husband.
That soothes the beast a little more. Knowing I’ll be her husband until I take my last breath.
When I’m outwardly calm, I go back into her room.
Blair turns her head on the pillow. Her eyes are clear, the concussion fog lifting. She looks battered, fragile, and utterly magnificent.
"I heard you," she says, her voice raspy.
Asking what part would be an offense. I couldn’t bear to get any further away from her to have my conversation than to stand right outside the door. I’m sure she heard everything. The distance between us vanishes in two strides, and my hand claims hers. Her skin is warm, a sharp difference from the ice in my chest.
"Good. Then you know the plan."
"The gala.”
"Everything drops there. This won't happen in a boardroom behind closed doors. He won't fade away quietly." My thumb runs over her knuckles, mindful of the IV line. "He’ll be stripped bare in front of the people he cares about most. The donors. The board. The elite of Emerald Hills."
A flicker of something lethal passes through Blair’s eyes. It isn't fear. It's anger. A fury that comes close to matching my own.
"Good," she says. "I want to watch his face when he realizes he’s nothing."
Her fingers squeeze mine.
"After everything he’s done. The cheating, the humiliation at the fundraiser. And worst of all, he tried to take me from you, Gabriel. He didn't care if I died. He didn't care if..." Her voice cracks, and her hand moves to her stomach again.
"I know."
She looks up at me with big, doe eyes but they’re burning. "You know… when I came to you that night in the club, all I wanted was to get revenge on him by sleeping with you.” The corner of her mouth lifts just a little—almost like she’sremembering—and then it falls as her eyes meet mine again. “But it’s so much more than that now. More in every way. The way I feel about you, how you’ve snuck your way inside of me and now I can’t tell what’s you and what’s me anymore. But also how much worse Ryder is than I ever thought. I know it’s complicated for you because he’s your blood?—"
"He stopped being my blood the second his car hit yours," I promise her. “Before that, really. When he threw you away so carelessly. When he made you cry.” I reach up and brush the backs of my fingers along her bruised cheek. "He’s nothing but a problem now. One I’m about to fix."
The mattress dips as I sit on the edge, needing to be closer, but careful not to jostle her.
“Yeah, I just…” She leans her head on my shoulder and blows out a breath. “I don’t want you to regret doing this. What if one day you change your mind?”
I hear the question she’s not asking. “I won’t, but is that really what you want to know?”
She hesitates and then sits up again. “If you can do this to Ryder, to your son, what does that say about the way you love? Could you do this to me? To our child?”
The question hangs in the sterile air between us for only a heartbeat.
My hand tightens on hers, and I speak before the fear in her eyes can take root.
"No."
The word comes from the very bottom of my soul, a vow carved into the deepest parts of me.
"Ryder has always been incapable of love," I tell her, my voice dropping to that low, rough register that I know she can feel. "Narcissistic and looking at every relationship from every angle to figure out how it could benefit him. Even from when he was little, he looked at me and didn’t see a father. Hesaw a stepping stone. A bank account. He was an obligation I fulfilled, a bad investment I kept pouring resources into hoping the returns would change. They never did. But you? You aren't an investment, Blair. You're my oxygen. Destroying him is just cutting off a dead limb. Destroying you would be suicide."
I lean in, invading her space until my forehead rests against hers. My free hand moves to cover hers where it rests on her stomach. "And this baby? It’s a piece of my soul I planted inside you to ensure you’d never be able to leave me behind. It’s my darkness finally finding a home in your light. I poured everything I am into you to make it exist.” My fingers move up to the back of her neck, tightening just enough to pull her a little closer. “I’d tear the throat out of the devil himself if he tried to touch either of you."
Her breath hitches. The doubt in her eyes fractures, replaced by the dark, consuming heat that’s been there since that first night at Red Rum.
