Chapter 15
It has been three weeks since the demons clawed their way into our lives.
Three weeks of blood, and whispered war, I have watched from the sidelines, because Roman wouldn’t let me near the front lines, not even close.
He shielded me like a sacred thing, and it made me feel safe and suffocated all at once.
I understand his concern and why he keeps me away from his business.
This new life which I have exploded into is not the same boring existence I had before.
Instead, there is a real war going on, real deaths and blood running freely.
I know that Roman is trying to keep me away from the darkness of what happened three weeks ago.
I’m not stupid and know that Roman’s nights are violent and filled with gruesome gore that is pure evil.
Since meeting Roman I have had to integrate myself into a new home, a different way of life and having someone that consumes every moment of my thoughts. He is like a force five tornado that has pulled me in and has not let go .
I have asked since the attack what is happening as I can sense his anger, his bouts of rage which he tries to hide.
But he either distracts me by his magnificent body and seduction skills or changes the subject by talking about the renovations at Havoc.
I try to hide my concern, my worry, but I hear and see the changes.
The men spoke in hushed tones; they always did when I entered the room.
Conversations would pause mid-sentence, shoulders would stiffen, and glances would flick my way like I was a ghost walking through a battlefield.
They thought they were shielding me from the truth, from the weight of this war Roman was waging on all sides, but silence could be louder than any scream.
Still, I caught bits and pieces. Fragments that cut through the quiet like glass.
“There was another sighting near the old textile district. Blood markings on the walls, it’s those fucking demon signatures.”
Another time, “The Irish were spotted again near the east docks. Same crew that tried to intercept the last arms shipment. Flannery’s pushing harder. ”
Then two days ago, “…border breach at the eastern warehouse. There were five guards dead. Their fucking eyes were ripped out and the fuckers left a message in blood.”
My stomach turned, they didn’t say it, but I could hear what they meant between the lines. The demons weren’t just attacking, they were escalating. Getting bolder. With the Irish, they weren’t just competitors, they were a second front. And the warehouse breach wasn’t just a loss, it was a warning.
Every whispered update, every coded word and sharp look, painted a picture of a war grinding slowly toward something worse.
And Roman, he bore it all like a goddamn mountain.
He was unshakable and unforgiving. But I could see it in his tense jaw, in the exhaustion beneath the rage, in the fear deep in his eyes which he’d never admit to.
I knew he didn’t want me to carry any of it, but whether they told me or not, the weight was here, and it was getting heavier.
And maybe it was that pressure building in me, or maybe I was just tired of feeling like a porcelain doll on a velvet shelf, but I remembered the fight .
It was a week after the last demon attack, after I’d started feeling like myself again. I’d been cooped up for days. The renovations for Havoc were falling behind, and I wanted, needed, to check on the work personally. The twins were with me, and I wasn’t planning on sneaking out so I told him.
Roman had been on the phone in his office, already tense, when I stepped in.
“I’m going to Havoc,” I’d said, crossing my arms.
He looked up, his eyes narrowing like I’d said something absolutely insane. “No. You’re not.”
“I have the twins. They’ll be with me the whole time…”
“I said no.” His voice snapped like a whip. “That’s final.”
I’d felt something snap inside me too. “I’m not a prisoner, Roman, don’t talk to me like that” I hissed, stepping toward his desk. “You don’t get to lock me away and pretend it’s for my own good. I know you’re protecting me, but I need to breathe too. I need to live.”
His hands curled into fists on the desk. “You don’t understand what’s out there. ”
“No,” I said, my voice shaking now, “I do. I’ve seen it, don’t forget I bled from it, but I’m still standing… I get that I’m not a fighter like you, but I’m not glass either.”
He stood, towering over me but I didn’t back down.
“You can’t keep me in this house twenty-four-seven and expect me to just smile and say thank you for the gilded cage.
” His jaw ticked, his fangs flashed as he rounded the desk and approached, and then without a word he grabbed my jaw, not hard, but enough to make me gasp, and pushed me back against the nearest wall.
His mouth was on mine a second later, wild and desperate.
It wasn’t gentle, It was scorching, possessive and raw. His fingers threaded into my hair, his body pinning mine. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The only thing in the world was Roman and the way he kissed me like the world outside didn’t matter, only I did.
When he finally pulled back, our chests were heaving. My lips were swollen, and my thoughts were scrambled .
“I hate it when you fight me,” he murmured against my mouth, “but fuck, I love your fire.”
“You can’t always smother it,” I whispered, still breathless.
He stared at me for a long moment, then let out a rough sigh. “You go to Havoc,” he said, his forehead resting against mine. “But only with me, or one of my brothers. No exceptions. Not until this war is over.”
I nodded. “Deal.”
That was the night I realized something important; Roman didn’t just want to protect me from the world. He was afraid of what would happen to himself if he ever failed and I wasn’t going to let him carry that fear alone.
A noise outside snapped me back to the present; I looked around raising my hand to my stomach as I felt it lurch.
Roman wasn't the only one with something to protect, that thought rooted itself in my chest like a warning, or maybe a prayer. I didn’t want to think about it, not yet, not until, I was sure.
But I couldn’t deny what my body was telling me.
And now... my stomach curled again, sharp and sudden. I pressed my hand more firmly to my belly and sucked in a slow breath. My world tilted for just a second and the nausea returned like a tide, cold and rising. I gripped the edge of the counter to keep my balance.
Ashen was at my side instantly. “Layla?”
“I’m fine,” I said looking up at him, the lie smooth and practiced now.
He didn’t look convinced. “You’re pale. Sweating.”
I pushed off the counter and straightened. “It’s nothing, maybe I’m coming down with the flu. I think I just need some air.” Except... I hadn’t had a period since the attack.
The thought slid into my mind like a blade, slow and sharp, cutting through the fog of fatigue.
My breath hitched. No. It could be stress, after all my body had been through hell with the demon attacks, the constant upheaval and Roman dragging me into his world of shadows and war.
Skipping a cycle wasn’t exactly surprising under the circumstances.
But still…
My fingers curled against the cool marble counter. I could feel my pulse in my wrists, a low thrum that made me nauseous all over again. I did the math in my head, counting weeks backward, tracing days like I was walking a minefield.
The night of the attack and the days after. Roman…
Heat crept up my neck, not from embarrassment, but from the rush of realization that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t flu or stress or the aftermath of battle. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing.
I couldn’t tell him, or not yet, not until I was sure. The last thing I needed was to give Roman another reason to lock me down tighter than the fortress he already kept me in.
And God… if I was right, this wasn’t just about me anymore.