My palm settles over her belly, warm and firm. Protective.
Something in me shifts, crystallizes, and the weight of what I could lose, what I’m silently starting to hope for, settles heavily between us.
Rojas chose war.
But he won’t be ready for how far I’ll go now.
Camille
I wake to sunlight melting like honey across my bare shoulder, warm and sweet and lazy. Kane’s arm is heavy across my waist, his presence branded into my skin. It feels like possession. Like security. Like something deeper, something dangerously close to forever.
It’s still early, the kind of early where the world holds its breath and the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, pale and hesitant. Behind me, Kane sleeps deeply, his chest rising in a steady, reassuring rhythm against my spine. His breath is warm at the nape of my neck, lips brushing softly against my skin with every exhale. His palm rests possessively beneath my ribcage, fingers splayed wide as if even in dreams he refuses to let go.
I should feel safe.
And I do. But beneath that safety, there’s something else. Something nagging quietly, an unspoken whisper slipping through the edges of my consciousness. It’s subtle, but persistent like the lingering ache after a bruise fades, or the hush before a storm rolls in.
It’s not the first morning I’ve felt it. A strange heaviness drapes itself over my bones, dragging me down when I try to rise, urging me back to the pillow. My stomach churns uneasily, not violently, but enough to make me pause, swallow hard, and wonder.
I close my eyes, breathe slow and measured, waiting for the wave to pass.
It does, but not before that persistent question resurfaces, the one I’ve been desperately ignoring.
Could I be...?
I clamp down hard on that thought, silencing it ruthlessly. I’m just tired. Overwhelmed. Strung out from the constant vigilance, the carnival’s hidden threats, the looming presence of danger that clings to Kane’s shadow.
Yet…
Behind me, Kane shifts slightly, pulling me from my thoughts. His voice comes, low and rich, edged with the velvet rasp of sleep.
“You’re awake.”
A simple statement, but the quiet concern woven beneath it makes my pulse quicken. He dips his face against my neck, breathing deeply, his lips a whisper on my skin.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admit softly.
“You’ve been restless.”
“I’m fine,” I murmur, even though we both know I’m lying.
Kane’s lips brush the curve of my shoulder, soft and lingering, like he’s trying to coax the truth out of me gently. “You don’t have to lie to me, mi cielo.”
My chest tightens, and I stay quiet because I don’t trust myself to speak. Not yet.
“I heard you get up last night,” he says, voice rough with an edge of worry. “You okay?”
I nod weakly against the pillow. “Yeah. Just… off.”
He shifts behind me, concern sharpening his tone. “Headache?”
“No.” I hesitate, struggling to put it into words. “It’s more of a…body ache. A heaviness.”
Kane’s arm tightens protectively around me, his hand sliding from my ribs down to settle lightly against my stomach. It’s gentle, comforting, innocent yet my breath catches anyway.
He notices immediately.
Of course, he does. Kane notices everything.
