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Fury overtakes me like liquid heat and I kick the door open, wood splintering.

I slam on the light and there she fucking is, half on the ground, terror on her face, trying to shield a little boy.

I don’t even have to see him to know he’s mine.

Her terror tells me. It rolls off her and the futility of her hiding him only angers me more. I’m not being reasonable, and I don’t give a fuck.

The kid starts to cry.

“Sasha, shh, it’s okay, the bad man’s going away.”

Bad… Oh, fuck no.

The kid looks up. Dark hair in soft curls and the pale ice blue of my eyes.

He’s mine.

He fucking looks just like me.

A growl fills the air and the kid—Sasha—buries his chubby face into his mom’s body, and she closes around him, looking at me like I’m the devil incarnate.

Another growl and I suddenly realize it’s coming from me. I force myself calm.

I’m pissed. Beyond pissed, and into a realm I’ve never been before. But I don’t want to scare my kid any more than I have.

“Get your fucking stuff, Erin, and follow my orders to the letter, or you will regret it.”

“What—”

“Shut the absolute fuck up. Now, pack up and get in my car. Now. Or I swear you’ll never see my child again.”

She makes a sound like a wounded animal, agonized, pitiful, and it should touch me. The little boy hugs her tight.

A son.

Holy motherfucking shit.

I have a son.

Chapter Twelve

ERIN

I don’t move.I’m frozen as my worst nightmare stands in front of me and stares. Ice-cold, made of unfeeling stone. Demanding his son.

From somewhere I find words as I hold Sasha’s shaking little frail body. He’s a baby, he’s innocent and this man…

“You’re not his father. I gave birth to him, sacrificed for him. I’m the one raising him, loving him. I’m?—”

“Enough.” Demyan’s voice is cold as he cuts me off. “Not here.”

“But—”

“We’ll talk about this.” His tone’s as harsh, stiff, unfeeling as he is. And he sweeps his gaze around the bare-bones motel room and part of my brain’s trying to work out how I can pay for the door.

I haven’t unpacked much, just a couple of essentials, a snack for Sasha, a book, toothbrush. His stuffed baby goat.

Like an organized storm, Demyan sweeps things into the bag that’s open and shoves it all in, never seeming to take his gaze off us for more than a second.