When the mirror starts to fog, I remember I’m supposed to be taking a shower. It must be hot enough by now, so I pull the curtain back and get in. The water is hot on my skin, burning, but it feels good. I take my time washing up, scrubbing the tears from my cheeks and the nonsense of the day away.
What a great Christmas…
Maybe I’m not destined to have a good one. Seems that way. I’m twenty-five and I’ve never had a good one.
After scrubbing my body, hair, and standing under the water until my skin is red, I finally decide I should get out—if only tocheck on Kolton and Dorothea. He said he would be fine, but if she’s crying, he may be losing his mind. I don’t think he will hurt her, but maybe he’ll start crying too.
I laugh to myself as I shut off the water and reach for the towel. I dry my hair as best I can, then dry my body and quickly pull my clothes on. The house is quiet, so I’m careful as I walk down the stairs, not wanting to wake Dorothea.
Only she isn’t asleep when I get down there.
And Kolton isn’t the only one in this house anymore.
I freeze on the bottom step. Fear slams into me so hard it steals the breath right out of my lungs. My ears roar, my chest tightens, and my vision gets blurry.
“Took you long enough.”
That voice—deep, smug, familiar enough to turn my blood to ice. It sickens me.
My hand grips the railing until my knuckles ache. My legs won’t move, but my vision starts to clear and I finally see him. Really see him.
Gunner.
And he’s holding my baby.
Dorothea is cradled in his arms like a prize he won, her tiny fists curled against his chest, her little face scrunched as if she knows this is wrong. My baby. My sweet, helpless baby in the hands of a monster. How did this happen? How can this be happening?
Every instinct screams at me to run to her, to tear her out of his arms, to claw at his face and get rid of him once and for all. But my body betrays me—I still can’t move. My feet are cemented to the floor, my heart hammering away in my chest, threatening to burst through.
“It’s okay, Anastacia,” Kolton says, his voice low, steady, a command wrapped in calm. His hand lifts slightly—telling me not to move, to stay put.
As if I could move if I wanted to…
Kolton is standing closer to the kitchen, his posture casual, but I see the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders are squared, ready to strike. His eyes never leave Gunner. Not for a second.
And Gunner… Gunner is by the couch, standing there like he owns the place. Too close to me but not close enough that I can get Dorothea without him knowing.
The room closes in on me. Every creak of the floorboards, every tiny squeak from my baby feels amplified, like the universe is holding its breath and the world is ready to implode.
None of this makes sense.
How did he get in? How long has he been here? And why does it feel like one wrong word, one wrong move, could end with me watching my daughter be taken away from me forever?
The thought has me sick, and I sink to the steps, my body giving out on me.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Gunner’s voice is cold and deliberate. “She’s going to make the club real happy.”
“Stop with the threats,” Kolton snaps. “We know you aren’t part of the Iron Runners anymore.”
Gunner looks up, his face gaunt. Eyes sunken in, teeth rotted. Bile rises in my throat.
He laughs, a snarky little sound that feels like a claw up my spine.
“Fuck the Iron Runners,” Gunner says. “And fuck the Hell’s Mayhem too. Bunch of pussies you all are.”
I don’t know what any of this means. I can’t make sense of what he’s saying, and I don’t care to.
“Give me my baby,” I say, so quietly that I barely hear the words myself.
