Tone
Three weeks felt like a lifetime when you were trapped inside it.
I marked them in small ways.
The way the house started to feel too tight. The way silence stretched longer between conversations. The way my brother watched me like I was a fragile butterfly that might shatter if he blinked wrong.
Raze hadn’t let me leave.
Every time I mentioned going back to my own place, he shut it down like it wasn’t even up for discussion. Too dangerous. Too exposed. Too much risk with Michalo Machado still out there, circling like a vulture waiting for the right moment to strike.
So I stayed.
In his house. Under his roof. Under his constant, suffocating watch.
It should have felt like protection. Instead, it felt like a cage.
And every day that passed, the anger simmered hotter beneath my skin. Not loud or explosive. Just… constant. A low, steady burn that never quite went out.
Because no matter how many times I told myself he was trying to keep me safe, he’d still taken something from me.
A choice. Him.
I pushed that thought down the same way I had for the last three weeks. Hard. Relentless.
Because it kept coming back. In the quiet moments. In the spaces between breaths.
Archie.
I hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t heard from him. Not a single word.
Which should have made things easier, but somehow it didn’t.
It made my pain worse. Because now all I had was a memory.
The way he looked at me before he left. The way I let him leave.
I stared at my phone more than I cared to admit. I drafted messages I never sent.
Are you okay?
Deleted.
We need to talk.
Deleted.
I’m sorry—I miss you.
Deleted faster than the others.
I refused to be the one to cave. Refused to be the one who went running back after I’d made my choice. Even if that choice felt like it was slowly killing me.
“Tone?”
Izzy’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back into the kitchen.
I blinked, realigning myself with the present.
“Yeah?”
She was watching me closely.
“Where did you go? I’ve been talking non-stop for five minutes and you just drifted away. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. Lately, I’d been drifting off into my thoughts too often.
I reached for my glass of water, but I didn’t get far.
The smell of coffee brewing hit me. Strong. Bitter. Overpowering.
My stomach flipped violently.
I barely made it to the sink. The retching came hard and fast, my body folding in on itself as I gripped the counter, bile burning the back of my throat.
“Shit—Tone—”
“I’m fine,” I rasped, even as another wave hit me.
I wasn’t fine. I’d been like this for days. Mornings were the worst.
Nausea. Dizziness. A constant, unsettled feeling that refused to go away.
I’d chalked it up to stress. To lack of sleep. To everything that had happened. Because what else could it be?
I rinsed my mouth, breathing through the lingering sickness, trying to steady myself.
Izzy didn’t move. She just stood there watching me quietly, almost pitying.
I hated the look that she gave me.
“What?” I snapped, my voice sharp in the quiet of the room.
She hesitated.
“Tone…”
“Spit it out.”
She exhaled slowly. “You might want to take a test.”
My stomach dropped. Cold.
“What?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve been through this before, remember?”
Her hand went to her stomach, to the swollen belly and the baby that was due any day now. But my brain rejected the idea before it could even take root.
“No,” I said immediately. “It’s just stress.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying me. “Don’t think I don’t see you. You’ve been throwing up every morning. You look exhausted. And—”
“Stop.”
My voice came out sharp, firm. She didn’t stop.
“You could be—”
I moved before I could think, a hiss tearing out of me as I lunged, grabbing her wrist and shoving her back a step.
“Swallow those words,” I snapped, fury spiking hot and sudden. “Right now.”
Izzy stilled. She wasn’t afraid of me. But I knew she loved me like a sister and would never say or do anything to hurt me. If anything, she’d been my champion with Raze ever since she came into our home.
“Tone,” she said softly, “you didn’t use protection, did you?”
The room started to spin.
My grip on her wrist tightened. My pulse roared in my ears. And then, I let her go and stepped back. Because the answer was already there. Loud and clear and unavoidable.
“No,” I said, but my voice came out weaker this time.
The realization dawned on me in on feel swoop.
My mind replayed my time with Archie in brutal, vivid flashes. The heat. The urgency. The way nothing else existed in that moment except him. Us. We hadn’t even thought about it. Hadn’t cared.
And now—my stomach twisted again. But this time, it wasn’t just nausea. It was fear.
“Don’t tell Raze,” I said quickly, turning back to her.
Izzy blinked. “Tone—”
“I mean it,” I cut in, voice low and firm. “Not a word.”
“You need to—”
“I’ll sort it out,” I said. “On my own.”
She studied me for a long moment. Then pursed her lips into a tight line and nodded.
“Okay.”
The relief that followed was immediate. But short-lived. Because now—now the thought had taken hold. And it wouldn’t let go.
I didn’t trust anyone else to do it, so I bought the test myself.
I drove out under the pretense of needing air, ignoring the way Raze’s men tracked my movements, ignoring the weight of their eyes as I stepped into the pharmacy and walked straight to the aisle I never thought I’d need.
It felt surreal. Like I was moving through someone else’s life. Until I wasn’t.
Until I was standing in the bathroom, door locked, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I stared at the test in my hand for a long time. Second guessing what I was doing. Would not knowing for sure make any difference?
Then, I took the test and waited.
I counted the seconds like they might undo something already set in motion. But they didn’t.
There were two clear lines. Unmistakable and undeniable.
My breath caught. Everything in me went still. And not long after, something inside me shifted, soft and warm.
My hand moved instinctively, pressing flat against my stomach.
Beneath the weight of what this meant, something undeniable settled.
I wanted this. A piece of him. A piece of us.
Something that existed beyond the chaos and the choices and the lines we weren’t supposed to cross.
A future. Even if I had no idea what it looked like. Even if it terrified me.
Because that didn’t change the other side of it.
Raze. My cousins. The family. The expectations. The rules.
My chest tightened. Because I already knew that this wasn’t going to be simple or even easy.
But I wasn’t going to give this up. Not for them. Not for anyone.
I looked down at the test again, my grip tightening.
Options. I needed options. Because staying here—staying under Raze’s watch, under his control—that wasn’t going to work for long.
Not with what was growing inside me. I probably had a couple of months at best.
My mind moved fast, calculating, searching for something—anything—that gave me space. Distance. Control.
And then, it hit me.
Paris.
The thought settled in, quiet but certain. I’d been thinking about it for a while, even before this.
Distance from the house. From Raze. From the constant surveillance.
A place where I could breathe. Where I could figure this out on my own terms.
My pulse steadied slightly. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it was a start.
I exhaled slowly, slipping the test back into its packaging as if I could contain the reality of it, too.
Then I looked at my reflection. I had already started looking paler, tired. The changes had started. And I had no idea how long I could hide this secret.