Page 63 of The Mercenary's Hidden Heir
"Had to stand there and smile while they stared. While they laughed."
The rage that coils inside me is cold.
Deadly.
But I lock it down.
She needs this.
Not my anger.
Not my guilt.
Just the space to bleed out the wounds she’s had to hide too long.
"I found out I was pregnant two months later," she says, voice cracking under the weight of the memory.
Her hand drifts to her stomach, like she’s remembering carrying them inside her.
"Thought about killing myself," she says blunt. "Figured Petru’d kill the babies anyway. Figured it’d be easier if I did it first."
I flinch.
Can't help it.
The thought of her alone, scared, carrying our blood, wanting to end it all.
It shatters something inside me I didn’t even know was still whole.
"But I didn’t," she says, shrugging one shoulder.
Her mouth quirks into something that might be a smile if you squint hard enough.
"I stayed alive out of pure spite," she mutters. "Wasn’t gonna let Petru win."
I breathe out slow, clenching my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms.
"You fought," I say hoarse.
"Damn right I fought," she snaps, finally looking at me. "Fought for them. For me. For whatever scraps of dignity I had left."
Silence stretches out.
Thick.
Heavy.
I feel every inch of it pressing down on my chest.
"And then," she says softer, "Silpha helped me fake my death. Got me out. Got me here."
She sweeps her hand around the busted room.
"This is it, Traz," she says. "The grand empire your babies were born into. Rust. Dirt. Running scared every damn day."
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
