Industry blacklist.
I stared at the number, feeling like a boulder had been dropped on my chest.
I didn't have that kind of money. Even if I emptied every account, liquidated everything I'd saved over the years, it wouldn't be enough.
And if I were blacklisted, how would I support Kai?
Kayden had burst back into my life and discovered Kai's existence.
Kai was experiencing dangerous blood fluctuations that required his father's guidance—or risked spiraling out of control.
Baltimore, which I couldn't leave. Crushing penalty fees that trapped me here.
One crushing weight after another. Layer upon layer of pressure. Even my ability to run had been stripped away. I felt a despair unlike anything I'd known before. The fragile walls I'd built around my sanity finally crumbled.
Why was fate so cruel to me? Why was I never allowed to be happy?
Kai's test results crumpled in my fist, smooth paper marred by ugly creases—just like my cursed life.
I needed to scream. To rage. To direct all this pain and fury at something, anything. But all that emerged was a short, strangled sound from deep in my throat.
What am I supposed to do?
Chapter Nine
Kayden
I sat in the top-floor office of Blackwood Group, my fingers drumming an irregular rhythm against the armrest.
Baltimore's night skyline blazed outside the window, but I saw none of it. All I could hear, playing on loop in my head, was that small voice—
"Mommy?"
Just that. One word.
The kid had peeked out from behind the hospital room door, dark curls a mess, face pale, eyes...
Fuck. The same silver as mine.
In that instant, my wolf nearly tore through every restraint I had. It roared in the depths of my soul, claws scraping frantically, desperate to lunge forward, gather that pup in my arms, lick him, protect him, tell him—
I'm your father.
But Layla was faster.
Like a mother wolf guarding her young, she swept the child into her arms, shielding him with her body, baring her fangs at me.
In that moment, looking into her eyes, I saw no trace of love. Onlyfear, rage, hostility, and a desperate wariness.
As if I were some monster who might hurt her child any second.
Our child.
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.
She was actually afraid I'd harm our son.
The realization was like a fine needle, slowly and precisely piercing the softest part of my heart, then twisting. The pain wasn't sharp—not like when she first pushed me away, not consuming—but constant, dull, maddening, forcing me to face a possibility I'd apparently never considered—
