Jazz’s steps faltered, abarely perceptible hesitation. The car had been there the entire time—lying in wait, like a trap she hadn’t seen until it was too late. Her breath came shallow, her pulse a slow, heavy thud in her ears. The moment she stepped inside, the door would shut, and she would be theirs—at least fornow.
The door creaked open as they approached, the faint scent of stale air and old leather wafting out. It was the kind of car meant to blend in, to be forgotten, yet now it felt like a cage waiting to close around her. Jazz hesitated just for a second,her pulse quickening, before climbing into the backseat.
She didn’t look back at the clinic. At what she was leaving behind—her appointment, her certainty, the last shred of control she thought she had over her own choices. The moment she stepped into the car, the course of her day, maybe even her life, was no longer her own. But there was no turning backnow.
Her hands trembled at her sides before she forced them to still, fingers pressing briefly into the fabric of her dress. She willed her body to cooperate, to project the composure she didn’t quite feel. The movement was small, barely perceptible, but necessary—aprotective act to keep herself from unraveling.
Titus couldn’t find out about what they were orchestrating—not from them, not before she had a chance to prepare him. If they got to him first, if they framed this in a way that made him see red, she didn’t know what he’ddo.
That was the real fear—the unpredictability. Not justhis anger, but the strength of his reaction, the strength he could unleash when he felt cornered. He would retaliate, and if he did, there would be no undoing the fallout. If the wrong people got to him first, if they twisted the truth before she could explain, she didn’t know how he’d react. And that uncertainty terrified her more than anything
If the Feds wanted to use this as leverage, she had to stay ahead of them. She had to make sure she was the one managing the narrative, notthem.
Chapter 10
WHEN THEYarrived at headquarters, the room they escorted her into was cold. Barren. Designed to make her as trapped and uneasy as possible.
It left a dryness in her throat, asterile emptiness that made the space feel more like a vacuum than a room. Aplace where words could be twisted, where the truth could suffocate before it ever had the chance to be spoken.
The overhead light buzzed softly, flickering just enough to be noticeable, acalculated irritation meant to unnerve. The walls, adull gray, were bare—no windows, no clock, nothing to anchor her to time. Just an empty space meant to swallowher whole.
Jazz sat stiff-backed in the metal chair as if bracing for an impact she knew was coming. The light was too bright, casting stark shadows across the gray walls.
A psychological trick. She knew that. They wanted her to feel small, helpless, as if this place—this moment—belonged to them. But she wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.
Agent Reed sat across from her, his posture too casual to be natural, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Foster stood to the side, leaning against the wall with the air of a man who had all the time in the world. It was a performance, one Jazz refused to playinto.
Reed offered a small, almost sympathetic smile. “Are you comfortable?”
Jazz shifted slightly in her chair, adjusting her posture without breaking eye contact. She willed herself to remain motionless, to exude the same cold detachment they did, but the chair’s metal edge dug into her back, abitter reminder of where shewas. Her jaw tightened. They wanted her off balance. They wanted her to flinch. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
She didn’t bother answering.
He sighed, as if her silence was a personal disappointment. “Look, we don’t want to keep you here longer than necessary. You cooperate, we get what we need, and you walk out of here with no trouble.”
She lifted a brow. “Then I’d like to call my lawyer.”
A brief flicker of annoyance crossed Reed’s face before he masked it. “We’re arranging that now.”
She doubted that.
Foster finally pushed off the wall and moved closer, his steps slow, deliberate. “We just have a few questions, Jazz.” His voice was softer, edged with fake concern. “You know we’re only trying to help, right?”
She met his gaze, unflinching. “Then I’ll wait for my lawyer.”
Another sigh. Another long, drawn-out silence.
Then Reed leaned forward slightly, his eyes pinning her in place. “Does your husband know you’re pregnant?”
Everything inside her froze. Her breath. Her pulse. The air around her seemed to shrink, compressing inward.
They were watching her. Closely. Waiting for the reaction she couldn’t prevent.
She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but her fingers twitched against the cold metal of the chair. The only betrayal of her shock.
A smirk ghosted over Reed’s lips. “That’s what I thought.”
Jazz fought to push past the roaring in her ears. She should’ve known this was coming. Should’ve prepared for it. But hearing the words spoken aloud, knowing they had this ammunition to wield against her—it sent a fresh wave of unease rolling throughher.
