Chapter 41
Five and a half months later
I bite into my peanut butter–covered, sweet-and-sour-flavored pickle and hum in gluttonous ecstasy.
“Calm down, girl,” Meela quips, dropping into the chair beside me. “Are you going to ask the pickle to marry you?”
Leah, who sits across from me, unsuccessfully tries to hide her laughter behind her hand. I give her my best death glare, but that only increases her laughter. I roll my eyes and turn my ire on the instigator instead.
“Shut the hell up, Meela,” I say around a mouthful of the savory sweetness. “I’m seven and a half months pregnant with twins. I’m allowed to be greedy.”
“That you are,” she replies in her usual cheeky manner. “You’re as big as a goddamn house.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Sure there’s only two in there?”
“Fuck you very much,” I deadpan and dunk my half-eaten pickle into the jar of peanut butter in front of me.
She leans close to my pickle. “Let me have a bite.”
I snatch my hand back. “Mine!”
“Dang, I was only joking,” she says, amusement in her artificial pink-colored eyes. “Pickles and peanut butter? Nooo, thank you.”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” I tell her. “But not this one. This one is mine.”
“Pregnant people are weird.” Leah chuckles and pops a salt and vinegar chip into her mouth.
We’ve both been snacking, waiting impatiently for the food to get done.
“All jokes aside, you look absolutely stunning,” Meela comments, giving me a once-over.
I smile from ear to ear. “Thank you. You look stunning yourself.”
Meela skims a hand over her butterfly locks. “I always do, don’t I?”
I roll my eyes at her smug remark, but she’s not wrong. She even wears sexy little pieces to bed. Practice for when she finally gets her man. Her words, not mine.
Today, she’s sporting a yellow, long-sleeved crop top with a smiley face on the front, paired with ripped, skin-tight jeans. A pair of sky-high platform sneakers in the same sunny yellow completes the look.
I’m looking pretty fashionable today too—thanks to my stylish friend.
She picked out a long, flowy blush-pink dress and silver flats with rhinestone buckles.
The dress drapes off my shoulders, showing a hint of cleavage.
A matching tiara sits atop my bohemian knotless braids.
Meela had it custom-made by a girl she found on Instagram, along with the sash that proudly declares me “Mother-to-Be.”
She and Leah were up at the crack of dawn, decorating the clubhouse for my baby shower. I’m genuinely impressed. Blush pink, silver, and ivory decor fill the room—from the table centerpieces to the balloon bouquets. Zeus covered the cost, but my friends handled all the planning.
Soon, I’ll be the proud mom of twin daughters. I still can’t believe it. Sandman didn’t speak for a full ten minutes after the ultrasound tech told us there were two babies growing inside me.
“You were supposed to be back two hours ago,” Leah comments, arching an eyebrow at Meela.
“What can I say? I needed my beauty rest.”
“Oh God,” Leah scoffs, rolling her eyes.
I smile, grateful for them both. Without Meela and Leah, I’d be a wreck. My grandmother is gone. And the woman who gave birth to me? Vanished. Loretta Kensley never had a maternal bone in her body, but it still hurts that she hasn’t reached out. That silence cuts deeper than I expected.
I’m especially grateful Leah is here. She hates anything to do with the Gods, but she still came to support me. Thankfully, Snake is keeping his distance, though I’ve caught his eyes on her more than once.
I glance around the crowded room—the same room where the Thanksgiving massacre happened. I don’t recognize half the faces. Most of them showed up after the attack and never left.
The war between the Gods and the Disciples is still raging, with both sides suffering losses. Spider has managed to stay under the radar so far. Even today, security is tight to prevent another bloodbath. It’s not every day you see men with machine guns at a baby shower.
I sigh. The past five months have been rough. I’m mostly on lockdown, though I’m still allowed to attend school. I know it’s for my own protection, but the cabin fever is real.
To make things worse, two detectives showed up about a week after the attack, asking about Redmond.
Sandman saw it coming and coached me on what to say.
I played it cool and answered all their questions.
Yes, he visited me. No, I didn’t agree to the arrangement between him and my mother.
Yes, to my knowledge, he left after I refused to be his whore.
I was terrified, but I didn’t let it show.
Sandman was questioned too, since he and Redmond knew each other once upon a time. With no evidence of a crime, the detectives hit a dead end.
“Food’s ready,” Leah squeals excitedly and bounds to her feet. “Want me to make you a plate?”
I drop my pickle into the jar of peanut butter. “Absolutely, and give me some of everything.”
“Roger that, food for three coming right up.” Leah speed-walks toward the buffet-style setup as the designated cooks place a serving utensil on top of each covered dish. I requested vegan options just for my plant-eating friend.
“Greedy as fuck,” Meela mumbles under her breath.
I point my index finger in her face. “Didn’t I tell you to shut it?”
She plucks said finger, and I whine dramatically. “Ouch, that hurt.”
“Aww, let me kiss it better.” Meela grabs my wrist and attempts to kiss the ache away.
“Quit being a menace!” I giggle, pushing at her forehead. “You’re going to make me pee myself.”
My gaze catches on Sandman’s piercing blue irises, and my breath stalls in my throat. The way he watches me sends an icy prickle through my veins. I know what he’s thinking, or rather, what he’s fantasizing. I’ve seen that look a thousand times before.
He wants to fuck me in the most savage way possible. I don’t have to touch between his thighs to know he’s rock-hard right now. My growing midsection hasn’t tempered his lust or hatred for me. In fact, the larger my belly gets, the more possessive he becomes.
I should look away, but his stormy gaze holds me captive. The hate, anger, and lust radiating in those alluring blue orbs suffocates me just as effectively as a hand around my throat. Sandman is a train wreck waiting to happen.
He barrels forward, though there’s a sharp curve in the tracks ahead. Self-preservation would have a sane person braking, but not him. Not this brutal, savage man. He stays the course, and when the train derails, crashing in a fiery blaze, he’ll emerge from the ashes—broken and bloody.
Still, he would board the next one, continuing the dangerous cycle because all he knows is chaos and destruction. It’s his Achilles’ heel—a deadly obsession that’s bound to destroy him one day, but until then, his reign of terror will consume anyone caught in the crossfire.
Unfortunately for me, I’m in the middle of it all. Unlike him, I’m not strong enough to walk away from the wreckage.
“How are things between you two?” Meela asks, interrupting my dismal thoughts.
I blink and finally tear my gaze away from him. “Same ole, same ole.”
“I’ve been thinking,” she whispers for my ears only. “I can help you get away. I’ve got some coins saved and I’m getting more when I turn eighteen. Just say the word.”
“Do you really think I can escape him? He’ll find me, Meela.”
And when he does, there’ll be hell to pay. Right now, I have a little freedom—not much, but enough to breathe. If I run, he’ll lock me up for good.
In any case, whatever money Meela gives me won’t last, and she’s not turning eighteen for a while. I don’t have a cent to my name. Sandman made me quit Shadows after the abortion debacle.
And let’s be real—I wouldn’t get very far with two babies hanging off my coattails. It’s a pipe dream.
“Here you go, baby mama,” Leah says, depositing two overflowing plates in front of me.
I force a smile on my face. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” Leah turns on her heel and heads back to the buffet.
I begin eating, and the subject is dropped, though my appetite is completely gone now. After several minutes, I give up the pretense and just sit there, contemplating Meela’s offer.
Even if I were to escape Sandman somehow and disappear, witness-protection style, I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby—let alone two—on my own. Heck, I can count on one hand how many times I even held a baby.
“Chop, chop,” Meela orders, clapping her hands at me. “It’s almost time for games.”
I nod and force down a couple more bites before dropping my fork onto my plate again. “I’m ready.”
Two hours and way too many games later, I’m exhausted and desperately need a nap. Knowing how my newfound family turns any occasion into a party, my baby shower won’t end until late evening. Even then, the revelry will continue well into the early morning hours.
“Heading upstairs to rest for a bit,” I tell Meela and Leah. “Let me know when it’s time to open gifts.”
I leave the noise behind and make my way upstairs to Sandman’s room. Once inside, I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed, humming under my breath as my body sinks into the soft mattress. In an hour or two, I’ll be recharged and ready to go back down.
I toss my tiara onto the nightstand and pull the blanket around me. Just as my eyes start to close, the door creaks open—and my karma in human form walks in.
I jackknife into a sitting position, clutching the blanket to my chest as if the cotton barrier will protect me from him. “W-what do you want?”
“Let’s not play games,” Sandman replies gruffly and shrugs out of his cut. “You know exactly what I want.”
“I’m tired,” I whisper.
“Don’t care.” He begins undressing slowly, deliberately, taunting me with the knowledge that I’m powerless. My gaze tracks his every movement until he stands naked before me. “Are you going to open your legs willingly, or do I have to pry them apart? Either way, you’re getting fucked.”