Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
JULIUS
Nine days.
Nine fucking days since I set foot in this filthy jail cell. Each hour carved into me, slice after slice, draining my blood. The hardest part of these past nine days was that I hadn’t seen or spoken to Isla.
The cops didn’t say it outright, but they didn’t have to. Every time I asked to make a call, I was given a delay. Anytime I asked a question, I was given more excuses.
I was well aware of what they were trying to do, thinking I’d sing like a canary, knowing I was just a small fish in a huge pond.
I was flagged in an active investigation, and I refused to snitch on Marco, which was why they were pushing me to snap and give up a name.
I wouldn’t do that to him, not after everything he’d done for me.
Besides, the repercussions of being a snitch in the drug world would only get Isla killed.
I dragged my tongue over my teeth, tasting metal that wasn’t there, pacing the length of the cell again.
Three steps, turn, three steps back.
Over and over. If I stopped moving, something inside me would crack wide open and spill out where I couldn’t shove it all back in. The walls felt closer tonight, or maybe I was running out of room to contain it.
The only call I’d made was to Mark, but luck had never been on my side, and he was out of town on business until the end of the month. Until then, I was shit out of luck. They told me I could get a court-appointed lawyer, but I knew better.
I was waiting on my indictment, unaware of when the hell that would be. They hadn’t told me a damn thing. All I kept hearing was that it was coming and they were working on it. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe they weren’t dragging this out on purpose to get me to snitch.
Kraven…
Even thinking his name felt like swallowing shards of glass.
My brother.
I scoffed out a laugh. “Brother,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.
That word didn’t belong to him anymore. Brothers didn’t do this. They didn’t hand you over to the cop to get you out of the way to purposely pursue what was already yours. My core seized, and pain shot up my body. I welcomed it, craving it.
It kept me present.
Focused.
It kept me from drifting too far into the thoughts waiting to drag me under. If I let those in, there was no stopping them, but it didn’t matter. They came anyway.
Isla.
Her name hit me differently every time. It wasn’t sharp like his, and it wasn’t violent. It was worse. It was peace and love, and that made it hurt much more.
I stopped pacing, bracing my hands against the cold concrete wall as my head dipped forward.
Nine days.
No visits.
No messages.
Nothing.
At first, I told myself it wasn’t real. It was just another move in whatever twisted game Kraven thought he was winning. My fingers curled against the wall, nails scraping the surface.
He’d tell her things and twist the truth of why I was selling drugs. He’d make it look like I deserved this, and I chose this life, and as a result, I didn’t think about her at all, when she was the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I’d never choose anything or anyone over her.
“She wouldn’t believe him,” I said out loud, my voice rough, like I had to force it out.
She knew me.
She knew what I’d do for her. What I’d done for her. How I’d destroy the whole world for her. However, her doubt wouldn’t care about the truth.
My truth.
My head dropped back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
What if she showed up, and they turned her away? What if she called me, and no one passed the message along? What if she thought I didn’t want to see her?
My stomach twisted hard enough to make me swallow against it.
Fuck.
If she thought that, if she believed I was the one shutting her out, she wouldn’t stop trying.
Would she?
My chest pulled, something unfamiliar and unwelcome slipping in under the rage.
Regret.
It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything now.
All that mattered was getting out and getting back to her.
Fixing this before whatever distance was growing between us turned into something more permanent, which was the real threat.
It wasn’t the cell or the charges. It was the distance and time, and I’d continue to be away from her and give him another chance to swoop in and play hero.
Did she know he turned me in? Has she suspected? Or are they just continuing to play house while my baby grows inside her?
So many thoughts, so many questions, with so much time to think them through. I dragged my hands through my hair, gripping hard enough to sting.
That wasn’t happening. I wouldn’t let it, I couldn’t.
My breath caught.
The baby.
Everything in me went still.
Our baby.
Nine days…
Nine fucking days and I didn’t know if she was okay, if they were okay. I didn’t know if she was eating right. I didn’t know if she was sleeping. I didn’t know if she was scared or alone or missing me like I was her… I didn’t know anything.
Especially if he was there.
Is he sleeping beside her? Is she in his bed at night? Waking up in his arms in the morning?
This was pure and utter torture, far worse than any I’d ever experienced. My vision blurred red for a split second as something violent and uncontrollable snapped tight in my chest.
Mine.
“No.” The word came out low.
Final.
He didn’t get to step into my place, making me disposable. The thought alone made my hands clench into fists, my knuckles cracking. He knew what she was to me. It was why he did this in the first place. She was carrying my baby, needing me now more than ever before.
This wasn’t just about taking me down, it was about taking everything from me.
My freedom.
My control.
My future.
Her.
Specifically, my baby.
“Fuck…” I shoved away from the wall, pacing faster now, energy spiking sharp and erratic under my skin.
I didn’t think he had it in him, I didn’t think he’d go that far, and that was my mistake. I underestimated him, thinking blood and loyalty meant something.
It didn’t.
Not to him. Now I was suffering the consequences for every last one.
I dragged in a breath, deep and steady, forcing my thoughts to slow.
Panicking didn’t help. I was losing control, and that was what he craved.
He wanted me to sit in here and unravel, finally break, so when I got out, if I got out, I wouldn’t be the same.
A slow, dangerous calm settled over me. I refused to give him the satisfaction. Every second in here, every one of my thoughts and questions, every ounce of rage, fueled something useful inside me.
My gaze dropped to my hands, and they were steady now. I wanted him to understand exactly what he did to me. Exactly what it cost him. A flicker of something darker moved through me.
This wasn’t just about him anymore.
It was about her too.
My chest tightened again, but I didn’t push it away this time. I let it sit until it became a part of me. I needed to feel it, having to remember what was truly at stake.
“Why haven’t you visited me?” I asked the empty space, voice lower now, rougher.
I thought an answer might actually appear, like she might step through my cell at any second and look at me the way she always did.
Like she was still mine and I was still hers, but the cell stayed closed.
I could fight a lot of things, including my little brother.
It was the silence that I couldn’t fight.
If she was choosing him… If she was with him right now… If she was letting him stand where I should be… If he was touching her, comforting her, being there for her…
My hands suddenly gripped the steel bars, wishing I could pry them open.
If I started believing all of this, allowing it to make itself home inside my mind, there wouldn’t be anything left of me that wasn’t rage. And anger alone wasn’t enough to hold on to her.
She was pregnant and vulnerable, looking for some stability, and if I wasn’t there, he definitely was. I had no doubt that he had only turned me in to get more time with her. It was the only way he could win, or so he thought…
Fuck him.
A dark, bitter taste filled my mouth. He’d play her protector, the steady one, the one who stayed, the one who would use whatever he could to his advantage while I wasn’t there to defend myself. She wouldn’t replace me. She couldn’t. Not after everything we’d been through.
Not after us.
The doubt never left me, becoming my only companion.
What if she was learning how to live without me?
That thought hit deeper. For the first time since I arrived in this hellhole, I felt something dangerously close to fear.
Not for me.
For us.
For whatever we were now and if it would exist once I was freed.
My chest rose and fell slower, heavier. “Don’t,” I murmured, like she could hear me. “Don’t let this be the thing that ends us.”
I wouldn’t survive that. Not in any way that mattered. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself back to center. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t losing her. I repeated it as if it were a song in my head.
I knew one thing hadn’t changed in the nine days I’d been locked behind these bars…
She was mine.
I wasn’t giving her up.
At least not without a fight.