Violet
Ihated having someone else do my makeup.
For years, I’d perfected the art of painting myself into Logan’s version of a perfect wife. Then, for almost two months, I’d gotten to be myself. Barefaced. Unpolished. Free.
Now, I wasn’t even sure I had the strength to lift a brush if I’d wanted to.
The stylist’s fingers were cold as she swept a powder-filled brush over my cheeks.
“Stop making her look pale,” Logan muttered. “That brother of hers is a fucking psycho.”
For the past day, Logan had spoken of little else—other than my appearance and how this was our opportunity to “fix us.” He was furious Reed had figured out where I was. I had no idea how my brother had done it, but the thought of seeing him again was the only thing keeping me upright.
Reed didn’t like Vinny. Or Serena. Or anyone who dared come between us. But if he was coming here, into Logan’s house, that meant this wasn’t permanent. It meant Vinny would come. It meant someone would hold me and I would finally feel safe again.
Even if Logan still refused to let me have my bunny.
The stylist stepped back. Logan’s hands replaced hers, settling heavily on my shoulders to hold me upright.
The world around me dissolved into a blur of muted color; I couldn’t make out the stylist’s expression through the haze.
“Mr. Stellar,” she said carefully, “Mrs. Stellar doesn’t have much color for me to work with.”
“Yeah, because that fucking heat clinic is full of shit,” Logan snapped. “They promised me she’d be glowing. Does she look glowing to you?”
His fingers tightened, as if I were something mechanical he could adjust with enough pressure. But no matter how he tried to position me, I doubted I’d ever have color in my cheeks again, not without my alphas.
My stomach felt stretched so tight I could barely breathe. I dropped a hand to the swell, rubbing absently through the silk of my robe. I hadn’t meant to draw attention to it. I’d only wanted to relieve the pressure.
The instant my palm made contact, Logan changed.
One hand slid down my arm, raising goosebumps in its wake before settling over my stomach. My head tipped back slightly as I tried to read his expression through the blur.
His breath hitched, sharp and involuntary, as if he’d been struck. His other hand bracketed my waist, pulling me closer.
For years, the smallest misstep had earned me discipline.
Now he was nuzzling my neck and purring.
Part of me almost wished he would just hit me. At least that would make sense.
His nose dragged slowly along my throat as he inhaled deeply, as though committing me to memory.
“You don’t smell like much today,” he murmured. “Maybe we should cancel. If you’re not feeling well, you should be in bed.”
His palm flattened over my stomach, fingers splayed wide, claiming.
Fear pierced straight through me.
For years, “not feeling well” had never spared me. I’d attended meetings with fevers. Stood beside him with a split lip, concealer packed thick over the bruise. Learned to keep smiling while the room spun.
Illness had always been an inconvenience.
Now, when I wanted something—when I needed to see my brother—he was smoothing instead of snapping.
No.
I shook my head and forced myself straighter, stretching my lips into what I hoped resembled a smile.
“What?” Logan asked softly, going deadly still.
I had no voice. No phone. No easy way to answer.
So I let instinct guide me.
My hands trembled as I covered his and pressed them harder against my stomach, forcing him to feel the tight curve beneath my skin.
I’d tried this last night, hoping to earn my rabbit back. It hadn’t worked.
But Logan cared about appearances more than anything. Would he really pass up the opportunity to parade me in front of my brother?
Never.
“Those are my heirs,” he said, his grip tightening, as though the declaration solidified ownership.
They weren’t.
But I nodded anyway.
“Fine.” He kissed my cheek. “If you want to see your brother, you can. Let’s get you dressed.”
I had sworn I would never set foot in Logan’s den again after I escaped.
But with Reed within arm’s reach, I could endure it.
Especially because Reed had no intention of entertaining Logan’s control.
The moment he saw me, he crossed the room and ripped the tape from my face, yanking the feeding tube free.
The adhesive tore at my skin. The sudden drag of plastic burned all the way down until it slipped out. My eyes flooded instantly, a violent cough shuddering through lungs that felt as though they’d forgotten how to function on their own.
“Reed—” Logan barked.
Reed didn’t so much as flinch. He held the length of tubing up between two fingers like evidence.
“What the hell is this?” he asked calmly.
“Medical support. She wasn’t keeping enough down.” Logan’s hand landed on my thigh. “Do you want your sister sick?”
Reed rolled his eyes, adjusted my glasses, and took the chair across from us.
“She looks like she’s eating fine,” he said mildly, gesturing toward me.
He’d seen me weeks ago.
I knew I didn’t look like this then.
“Yes, but she’s pregnant,” Logan said tightly. “It’s for the babies, not her.”
“Right.” Reed leaned back. “So how far along is she?”
Carefully, I signed: You know how far along I am.
Reed gave a subtle shake of his head and lifted one finger.
Wait.
What are you doing?
“I’m not sure how you found your sister,” Logan said smoothly, “but we’ve been trying for an heir since the day we married.”
“Sure,” Reed replied. “But give me a number. Twins run in the family. Makes it hard to tell.”
Logan hesitated.
He had to know, didn’t he? With how badly he’d wanted this?
His gaze slid down my body and settled on my stomach.
“Forty-three,” he said confidently.
My breath caught.
“Forty-three what?” Reed asked gently.
“Weeks.”
The room seemed to tilt.
My doctor had told me I’d likely be induced at thirty-eight. I couldn’t possibly—
Had I slept through months?
The thought twisted something sharp inside me.
“Well,” Reed said lightly, “that’s impressive.”
He draped an arm over the back of his chair. “Is tonight a baby shower? Or something more corporate?”
Logan scoffed. “We don’t need gifts.”
“Of course not. Just family, then?”
“Close associates,” Logan corrected. “People we’ve worked with for years. They like to know who’s handling their money.”
“Your investors,” Reed translated.
“Exactly. They value transparency.”
“Transparency,” Reed echoed.
“Our operations are clean.”
“Predictable is good.”
For a moment, silence settled between them.
Logan bent forward, picked up my tea, and pressed it into my hands.
Drinking wasn’t optional.
I forced down several gulps despite the nausea clawing at my throat.
“So your investors get to see the future of the Stellar empire,” Reed said. “That must be reassuring. Especially after all these years.”
“For years,” Logan agreed. “They need to understand we’re not going anywhere.”
I set the cup down carefully, willing my shaking hands to steady.
Logan seemed to relax at the sight of my weakness.
“I’d love to continue,” he said smoothly, “but your sister isn’t feeling well. Rest is critical right now.”
For the first time, Reed smiled for real.
“I can only imagine,” he said. “Rest must be essential at forty-three weeks.”
Logan’s grip tightened at my waist.
“She’s fine.”
“Of course she is.”
Reed didn’t look at him when he said it.
He looked at me.
“I just have one more question,” he continued lightly. “I am invited tonight, right?”
Logan exhaled sharply and hauled me to my feet. My knees buckled instantly.
“What?”
“Can I bring a few guests?” Reed asked. “I’m worried I won’t know anyone.”
Black crept into the edges of my vision as I sagged against Logan.
“What kind of guests?” Logan demanded, shifting to take my weight.
“Friends,” Reed said easily. “I’d hate to feel out of place.”
Logan’s arm cinched around my waist. “Fine. I don’t care.”
He lifted me before I could collapse entirely, one arm under my knees, the other firm across my back.
“Perfect,” Reed said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Logan turned toward the hall.
“Make sure she looks nice,” Reed added casually. “We wouldn’t want anyone important seeing Violet as anything less than radiant.”
Logan’s steps slowed almost imperceptibly.
“She will,” he said evenly. “She always does.”
Reed hummed softly as darkness swallowed what remained of my vision.
And as I slipped under again, I clung to one certainty:
Reed would never let me out of his sight.
Not unless he already had a plan.