“So tell me, Renata,” he says conversationally. “If you had to choose, who would you pick? Kian or his runt?”
My body goes cold.
“Come on,” he urges, smiling like a man who knows he holds all the cards. “Which one would you save?”
I shake my head.
“If you don’t choose… I will kill both.”
“No,” I breathe. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do anything.” He sniffs again, as though he’s the wounded party. Then he stands up abruptly and lurches back towards the door. “I’m not an unreasonable man. I’ll give you time to make the decision. Twenty-four hours. That’s fair, isn’t it?” He turns to leave again.
“Wait!”
He pauses and looks over his shoulder, one hairy eyebrow arched. “Yes?”
“I want to speak to Kian.”
I can see from his black expression that that’s not what he wants to hear. At this moment, though, I don’t care.
“Very well then,” he sighs after a moment has passed. He turns back to the hall and barks an order to his men. “She wants to go visit the Irishman. She has ten minutes and not a second more. Drag the bitch back by her hair if you have to.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I snap. “I can walk just fine.”
“For now,” Rokiades murmurs, dark eyes glinting with a foul fire. “For now.”
* * *
After I’m unshackled and escorted to the side building, I rush over to Kian’s cell and pull open the partition urgently.
“Kian?”
“Renata!” His voice reaches me before his face appears on the other side of the grille.
“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing that his face is slightly pale. It looks like he has a few fresh wounds, too.
“I’m fine,” he says dismissively. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“I… I have something to tell you,” I admit.
“Okay…?” he asks warily.
I take a deep breath. I can feel my heart hammering hard against my chest, but I don’t have the luxury of doing this gently. “I’m pregnant.”
Something flickers across his eyes. “Say that again.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“How far along?” There’s still barely an expression on his face. Is he shocked? Nervous? Upset? Angry? Happy? I have no fucking clue.
“I don’t know exactly,” I say. “It’s still early. About two months, maybe.”
“Two months,” he says softly, his eyes clouding over.
“Kian…” I can’t wait for him to process this. “He knows, Kian. Rokiades knows about the baby.”
He looks up at me, and his eyes focus again. “And he still let you see me?”