Page 28 of Unmasked Anarchy (Fallen Sons MC #3)

K ael stays beside me for a long time. He doesn’t talk.

He doesn’t touch me, he just sits with one hand gripping the plastic arm of the chair so tight I think the screws will give.

I keep expecting him to say something, to ask the question he wore in his eyes moments ago, but he just sits, and I just sit, and my heart pounds angrily in my chest as I try to wrap my mind around what just happened.

I have never felt more aware of my own body.

Every nerve along my arms is hyperactive.

I can pinpoint every ache and every pain.

I’m pregnant. Fucking pregnant. A baby. A life.

I don’t want to move, scared if I do this will become something I can’t escape from.

The nurse finally comes back and she isn’t alone—she's pushing a pale blue machine on squeaky wheels, monitor mounted.

Kael stands, but I motion for him to stay. He does.

"Let's get a look at how far along you are," the nurse says, her tone careful and kind.

I nod, and she tells me how to lay so she can better access my abdomen.

She taps at the keyboard, preps the gel, tells me it’ll be cold.

It is. The wand presses against my stomach.

For a long moment, there's nothing—just gray static. She advises she will need to do an internal exam, and asks if I am okay for Kael to stay. I nod. His eyes never meet mine. I’m scared of how this will go for us.

She prepares the internal, then gets me comfortable and is as gentle as possible as she inserts the long probe.

I shift uncomfortably but keep my eyes on the screen as she searches.

Nothing again, but then a dark peanut shape, a flicker.

A pulsing dot. The nurse fiddles with the angle.

The dot blinks in and out. It is so small I can barely focus on it.

“That’s the heartbeat,” she says, voice gentle. “Looks like I was right, around six weeks. Strong for this early.”

I stare. All the confusion, pain, anger and anything in between leaks out of me.

My brain blanks. I can't even muster the words to say this must be a mistake. I just watch the dot pulse, on-off, on-off, steady, strong. My throat makes a sound I don’t recognize.

I think it’s a laugh, but it curdles and rolls back as a cry.

I cover my face with both hands and let it happen, every part of me seizing.

Kael doesn’t touch me. But he sits so close I can feel the warmth coming off his skin.

When I lower my hands, he is standing beside me, staring at me finally, his eyes warmer now.

I guess that little pulsing dot got him, too.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, voice all gravel. “If there’s a way, we’ll find it.”

The nurse types some more, prints out a grainy picture, hands it to me. I take it because I can’t think what else to do. It’s almost nothing—a blur, a shape. I stare anyway and something inside me changes.

“Do you want to know your options?” the nurse says. She’s careful, professional. Her face is kind.

I swallow, nod.

She launches into the spiel—I can keep it, but I don’t have to. There’s time to decide, there are safe ways, there are counselors.

“What about DNA?”

The words come out as a hoarse whisper and Kael flinches, but he doesn’t say anything. Her eyes widen for a second, then she glances sideways at Kael, then back to me. “If you want, there are tests we can do during the pregnancy to determine paternity,” she says.

My mouth is a desert. “How early can you tell?”

“There are noninvasive prenatal tests as early as nine weeks. We take a blood sample from you and from the potential fathers. It’s very accurate. Would you like information about that?”

I nod again, holding the ultrasound photo, my fingers numb.

She says someone will be in to talk about it and leaves. Just like that, the room is empty except for Kael and the ticking of the blood pressure machine. I can’t stand the silence so I fill it.

“I didn’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”

He reaches out to me, big fingers curling around mine. “You don’t have to do anything yet. Or ever, if you don’t want to.”

I want to say it’s not about want.

“If it’s yours?” I manage to grind out.

His eyes flash. “You know I want you, Sable. That baby is part of that.”

He isn’t saying if it’s his, or if it’s not. He is simply saying if it’s part of me, it’s part of him.

“What if it’s Gage’s baby, Kael? That’s going to be a problem, you know it will. He won’t just walk away.”

“Wouldn’t expect him to,” Kael mutters. “We’ll cross that road when we come to it. For now, let’s just wrap our minds around this, yeah?”

He releases me and steps back. “I gotta run, I’ll be back later.”

Then just like that, he’s gone.

He leaves and I know it’s because he is struggling with what he just heard. I don’t blame him, but it hurts all the same.

I stare down at the picture, and I cry.

God dammit.

I can’t lose him when I just got him.

I can’t.

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