Page 23 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

Fury’s stylized brows pinch together in concern, her mouth parting open like a fish out of water.

Hunting for the words to say but not a single one falls from her lips.

I cut her off and focus back on my tender fingertips.

I know how much she loves that. How do you fucking articulate the idea of your child begging for you?

Needing you to help them when you’re trapped and there isn’t any way you can shed your waking life to save them from their dreamscape.

“She wasn’t just begging, she was screaming and I could hear everything she said. Every gasp for breath, every broken cry, watching her plead for mercy.”

“What did she say, Nadi?” She’s using the shorter version of my name, for familial sake.

“If you killed me, would I be with him— with my dad? I tried so hard to be a good girl— it’s not my fault the devil came for me. I want to be where the stars are born.”

My throat squeezes unti I can’t fucking breathe from repeating Sadie’s words out loud. A strange form of guilt settles over me, as it always does when I think about the nightmare.

“Nadi, at no point will I ever tell you that I understand what you went through or what may happen to you in the future. But know this: I will do everything I can to make sure you find your little girl. Now, later, whenever you tell me. It will be done.”

Fury’s words are like a sedative, my whole body relaxing under them.

She must be taking lessons from Birdie. If you overlook the fact that I licked her across the mouth when we first met, she’s like the little sibling I never had.

Hell, we have similar attributes, even if I’m taller and just slightly thinner.

Bitch has the perfect chest-to-waist-to-ass ratio for her size.

Whatever family she came from, fantastic genetics.

“Thanks, Imp,” I say, awarding her one of my fake smiles that she always takes as a bluff—it is.

“Welcome, Oni.”

Time Served —- Thirteen Years Time Remaining — Four Years

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Nadi, happy birthday to you.”

It’s not my birthday and I hate these bitches. Half kidding.

Jerrikah approaches with a corner slice of cake left over from dinner yesterday—yellow with extra chocolate frosting—my favorite.

No candle, no cutlery, just sitting on a napkin in her hand as she delicately marches it over to me.

My own hands close the book that sucked me in a few days ago: The BoneMan’s Daughters , a thriller about a traumatized soldier whose sister goes missing.

It’s riveting, to say the least. By far my favorite jailhouse read.

When Jerrikah finally makes it to me, babying the slice of cake as though it’s the last one in the prison—which it might be—she reaches out and waits for me to blow the make-believe candle.

Dropping my eyes to where it should be located, I wait and think of a wish before leaning in and blowing cool air in the vicinity.

Applause erupts when I am done and my heart swells.

As I said, it’s not my birthday, but if it were, all of the birthday celebrations have been held in Bluitt.

What do I mean? Well, my dad never honored my birthday.

Let’s just say, my elementary school teacher had to explain what birthdays are and convince me that I had one.

I, in fact, wasn’t made of clay that someone breathed life into.

When I was old enough to understand, and had friends, I conveniently never told them.

I was accustomed to avoiding it, no use in changing up the routine.

Welp, I never told these cunts either, so they picked the day I delivered Sadie as my own birthday.

They meant well, don’t get me wrong, but I could have busted Tora in her face when she suggested this day.

It took the calm-collected-guarded Monika to calm me down, Birdie at my back mentally collecting the details to use against me at a later date.

Which, she does. Every time this day comes around, she’s prepped and ready to go, knowing I’ll likely break down in a few hours and rehash every memory before spiraling into a week of depression.

Yay.

“To the coolest pig in the room,” Fury jabs playfully.

“To the asshole who didn’t bring the cuffs,” chimes Tora.

Slut.

“Happy birthday, dear girl.”

“Thank you, Birdie.”

“Come to me when you’re ready to hide, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Yael and Monika come by last, giving me a squeeze over the shoulders.

You know one of those hugs that’s technically a hug, but the way you hold each other makes it almost awkward?

That’s exactly what we do. It started off as something we all laughed at, but since then it’s kind of grown into our own thing. Think… secret handshake.

As we all sit here, enjoying my so-called birthday, my mind begins to wander like it always does. Feeding pain directly to my soul.

Every damn inch of my legs and lower back hurt like a motherfucker.

I swear this kid is lying in there horizontal to the earth, pushing at both sides of my pelvic bones, trying to get them to open wide enough to birth a buffalo.

Don’t get me started on the Braxton Hicks; if they’re as mild compared to true contractions, I’m going to break in half.

A few days ago, after coming out of the showers and struggling to drag my clothes on, I noticed how Sadie shifted down low.

The pressure I normally felt under my lungs has eased and now I can’t look at the fluorescent lights without wanting to pee all over myself.

She’s also still and it scares me. When too much time has passed since I’ve felt her moving around, I run both hands over my stomach and press from left and right.

In search of the long plane of her back, then the swell of her little rump somewhere below my ribs.

Once I am done gauging where her sides may be, I start poking at her and she jumps.

Waddling my ass to the infirmary, I knock on the metal door that was built to withstand fucking Hiroshima and wait for someone from the nursing staff to come and address me. I’m down to my weekly visits, but they scheduled a few extra due to the whole blood type incompatibility thing.

“Inmate Pierce, you’re right on time,” Zoe, the medical assistant comments with her signature bright smile.

Sometimes she reminds me of Bailey from the hospital.

The nurse who tended to me after I was found by the CERT team and sent me in for observation.

She annoyed me, but having her there was the only thing I could tolerate.

Even when you want to be alone, shut yourself away from the world, someone acknowledging your pain allows you to be seen in a way no one has looked at you before.

Giving her a playful wink, I reply, “It’s one of my bad traits.”

I like to believe the nurses enjoy my company, that they feel safe with me.

When I visit, they seem to be comfortable enough to turn their backs while they prep things like the sonogram gel and napkins to wipe me clean afterward.

We also talk about what kind of life I hope for Sadie, discuss her adoptive parents, and sometimes we bring up Kace.

Those days I’m the most quiet but they reassure me with what they think he would say if he were here still.

‘Our little girl is going to be a goddamned menace just like you, Nadia. You drive me mad, but then again, you’re my favorite brand of insanity.’

“Oh I’m sure, that’s the one I should probably look out for. The Warden would expect entirely too much from little ol’ me if I start showing up to work on time.”

We both laugh while I follow her back to one of the gurneys and work on wiggling myself up on the side of it.

Going from fit to being as big and round as a damn house is a struggle.

Zoe pulls the curtain with her as she steps into the small area with me then sets to work.

Knowing the drill, I lay back and pull my shirt up.

Pale lightning bolts crawl across my stomach—stretch marks are right up there with my distaste for Braxton Hicks and the heartburn I’ve had since four months gestation.

As long as I don’t look at them, I’m okay.

I was hoping to come out of this pregnancy with as little damage to my body as possible, so there is less to torture myself with.

Unfortunately, I’m still one unlucky bitch.

“Alright, cold gel,” she announces.

My skin flexes when the cool material splats on my abdomen and I look at Zoe incredulously.

The chill makes my skin prickle and spread across the tight skin of my belly.

The same goosebumps slowly creep up to my arms and down my thighs in a leisurely wave, causing the rest of my body to be more sensitive to the cold of the infirmary.

Hell, the whole building. The staff keeps the temperatures set at sub-zero under the guise of germ control.

Can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to double up socks—which are thread bare and worthless.

“Just let it splat on there, why don’t you. Rude.”

Zoe grins salaciously, having done that shit on purpose.

Placing the container down and grabbing the Doppler first, she begins checking for Sadie’s heart beat.

Once she hears the rapid thud of it through the speaker, she moves over to the sonogram wand and slides it across my skin next.

Searching for a clear shot of her. Shifting, I turn to see the screen in its graining black and white glory—my pride and joy sitting there for the world to see.

My words fall out as a whisper. “There she is.

“There she is,” Zoe repeats.

I’ll never tire of looking at her. Her perfect profile, round little head, her fist sitting in front of her mouth which Zoe says she’s probably sucking her thumb to self-soothe. Every time I come to see her, she looks bigger, more developed, and usually gives us a bit of her playfulness.