Chapter 41 Ani
Nik is gone again. Every night this week, he has gone out with his brothers and mine to wage war on this city, leaving me in this quiet apartment listening to the far too loud thump of my anxious heart.
Knowing he’s out there, walking the streets, leaving chaos and fear in his wake, I can’t stop imagining the worst possible scenarios.
My phone buzzes across the bathroom vanity, and my heart leaps into my throat. I scramble to grab it and swipe it open with urgency before letting out a heavy sigh of relief.
NIK
Going to be a late night, little pet
I’ll wake you when I get home
With one hand on the cold countertop, I pull open the cabinet to continue my search for the bubble bath. I kneel and move a box of tampons to reach the bottle behind it. I freeze, my eyes fixed on the box as a weird unease swells in my stomach.
I think about my period, something that rarely warrants my attention. I’ve never needed to track my monthly cycle because my pill schedule has never failed me. Never. Not once. Although before Nik, I was also a lot more cautious about using protection with the men I slept with.
When was my last period?
Based on the unopened box of tampons, not since I moved into this apartment.
Shit…
The last time I had my period was… Armenia… Maybe seven weeks ago.
“Fuck…” I exhale, dropping the box to the floor. Panic flares in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Every scenario that flashes through my thoughts is worse than the last, and I press my hands against the cool tile, trying to steady the sudden trembling of my fingers.
I grab my phone with shaky hands and text Hawk.
I need to go to the store.
The reply buzzes almost immediately.
HAWK
What do you need? One of us will go.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt, my stomach twisting again. I’m sure they’d be discreet.
Probably…
It’s two buildings over.
All four of you can come if you want but it’s “girl stuff” and I’d rather go for myself.
Here’s to hoping they think feminine products are icky.
Fine. Three of us will come with you.
We need five minutes.
I chug a glass of water. And then another. With my stomach full of liquid, I throw on my shoes and grab my purse. Hawk, Jagger, and Gunnar fall into formation—surrounding me on three sides—as we leave the apartment. Damon stays behind, standing sentry at the door.
The streets are empty, and the hum of distant traffic is undercut by the sharp snap of the three sets of boots against wet concrete around me.
The twenty-four-hour pharmacy is eerily quiet—only a cashier and a single elderly customer occupy the store.
After grabbing a shopping basket, I sling it over my arm and make my way down the nearest aisle.
Hawk stays at the door while Gunnar and Jagger follow not far from my heels.
“A tiny bit of space would be nice,” I grumble, reaching the aisle I need.
“I’m pretty sure I’m safe from the lady with the walker.
” Gunnar lets out a heavy sigh and gestures at Jagger, both of them backing off a little.
They hover at opposite ends of the aisle, keeping anyone from getting too close to me.
My hands shake as I pick up the first box, then the second, a third, and a fourth. Four… To be sure. One to know, one for an invalid result, one to make sure it’s not a false positive, and one for… just in fucking case.
I put the basket full of tests on the counter and slide it toward the cashier.
He scans the tests one at a time, his eyes flicking between me and the three very large, tattooed men escorting me.
The silence is thick, and his expression is all judgment, like he’s never made a bad decision—or fifty—regarding a condom before.
I swipe my card, and he extends the receipt toward me.
Leaning closer, I lower my voice so the guys don’t hear me.
“It’s too late for Plan B. Just need to know if I have to sign them all up for paternity tests or not.
” I smirk—pleased with myself for making him a thousand times more uncomfortable than he made me—snatching the slip from his hand. “Thanks.”
Back at the apartment, I thank the guys and head straight into the bathroom.
I drop the bag onto the counter and tear into all four boxes, lying each test side-by-side like a tiny pop quiz for my reproductive system.
My hands shake as I pull the protective caps off each of them and take a seat on the toilet.
I follow the instructions carefully, peeing on each test strip and placing them flat on the counter.
After quickly pulling up my pants, I wash my hands and hover over the tests.
My fingers drum on the counter. This is the nerve-wracking equivalent of watching paint dry.
A faint line appears on the first test, then the second.
My stomach flops, and I swallow down the rising nausea as the same line appears on the final two tests.
Each of them quickly grows darker into a sharp, bright blue line.
All of them have the same undeniable result.
I stare at them blankly, my brain struggling to comprehend what I’m looking at.
I’m pregnant…
“Fuck…”
The reality hits me like a punch to the gut, and my knees nearly give out.
I want to throw up, to cry, to laugh, to scream—anything—to release the fear clawing its way up my throat.
I exhale slowly as my fingers trace the edge of the counter, gripping the surface as if it can somehow hold together the whirlwind of fear, excitement, and dread inside me.
Now what?
I pace the bathroom, my eyes not leaving the tests as I repeatedly walk from wall to wall. Nik and I have just started to actually get to know each other. I have no idea what tomorrow is going to bring for us, let alone what the hell nine months from now is going to look like.
My thoughts scramble with questions I don’t have the answer to.
How is Nik going to react? Is going to be terrified? Furious?
Fuck, does he even want kids?
Fuck… Do I even want kids?
With my back pressed against the wall, I sink to the floor and pull my knees up to my chest, realizing how much those four little lines just rewrote my entire life.
I’m only twenty-two. I can barely remember to water the sad, half-dead plant in the kitchen.
How the hell am I going to keep a tiny human alive?
I’ve never even thought about having kids. Not seriously, anyway. Not in that distant, dreamy some day way other people do. I don’t daydream about nurseries or baby names. My idea of planning for the future has always been remembering to refill my birth control prescription on time.
How the hell did I let this happen?
I rub my hands over my face, trying to steady my breathing.
I’ve handled a lot of scary shit in my life, but this is different.
I want to call Madison or Eavan, just to have someone comforting to talk to.
Someone who might know what to say to ease my nerves.
But the thought dies almost as fast as I pick up the phone.
I can’t. They can’t be the first to know.
Well, them and the pharmacy guy. The smug bastard probably told the backroom stock boys he sold a pregnancy test to some chaos goblin knocked up by a damn biker gang. Fuck that guy.
I laugh at my own ridiculousness, letting my head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. Staring at the ceiling, I give myself a few minutes before dragging myself up off the floor. I splash water on my face, trying to wash away the dread.
It doesn’t work.
Nik said he would wake me when he got home, but that could mean anything.
An hour. Two. Sunrise.
I pace a little longer, eventually giving up and crawling into bed.
The sheets feel colder than normal, with the space beside me still empty.
My fingers trace the crease in the pillow where Nik usually rests his head.
The smoke and leather scent of him clings to the fabric, and it’s oddly comforting.
I lie on my back, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying not to spiral. My mind races with possibilities, fears, and questions I can’t answer. My hand drifts to my stomach, tentative, like the touch might make this even more real.
Nik is unpredictable—wild and half-feral on his best days—but he is also the only person in this world who has ever made me feel safe and loved. And if those characteristics don’t make an amazing father, I don’t know what does?
Eventually, I slip into a restless haze, the last thought echoing in my mind as everything fades: How the hell am I going to tell him?