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His eyes track the movement, lips curling in that cruel smile I know too well.

"You look different." His gaze drops to my midsection. "Getting fat already? Guess that's what happens when you stop giving a fuck."

"I—"

"You think you can just ghost me?" He's closer now, using his height to loom over me. "Block my number? Ignore my calls? That's not how this works, Everly."

"We're done," I manage. "I told you?—"

"You didn't tell me shit." His hand shoots out, grips my wrist.

Not hard enough to bruise—he's too smart for that in public—but enough to trap. "You're mine. You don't get to just walk away."

"Let go."

"We need to talk." His grip tightens fractionally. "About your little problem."

My blood turns to ice. "What?"

"I know you're pregnant." His voice drops, venomous. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't notice you sneaking off to the clinic?"

He had me followed.

Of course he did.

"You're not keeping it," he continues, matter-of-fact. Like he's discussing the weather. "I've already made an appointment. Tomorrow, 10 AM. I'll pick you up, we'll get this taken care of, and then we can work on us."

"No."

The word escapes before I can stop it.

His eyes narrow dangerously. "What did you say?"

"I said no." Stronger this time, even as my heart pounds. "You don't get to make that choice."

"Like hell I don't. That's my?—"

"Actually, it's mine."

Regnor's voice cuts through like a blade.

I didn't hear him approach, but suddenly he's there, solid warmth at my back.

His hand covers Dylan's on my wrist.

Not violent.

Just there.

Immovable.

"I suggest you let go ofmywoman," he says conversationally. "Before I break every finger on that hand."

Dylan's eyes widen, darting between us. "Yourwoman?"

"My woman." Regnor's other hand comes to rest on my stomach, protective and possessive. "My baby. My family. None of which concerns you."

The transformation in Dylan's face is terrifying.