Page 118 of Prey

“Will never happen to ours.” His voice carries absolute conviction. “I’ll burn down every facility, eliminate every operative, hunt every one involved in Project Architect to the ends of the earth before I let anyone touch our child.”

“And if they come for us? The people rebuilding Project Architect?”

“Then they’ll learn why I was their most effective Hunter.” His eyes harden. “They made me into a weapon. Now I’ll use those skills to protect what matters.”

I lean into his touch, letting his certainty anchor me. “I’m terrified, Nik.”

“Good. Fear keeps you alert. Keeps you careful.” His other hand settles over my still-flat stomach. “But don’t let it paralyze you. My brothers and I survived everything they threw at us—captivity, conditioning, the hunt. You survived your stepfather. We can survive this too.”

“This is different. It’s not just us anymore.”

“No, it’s not.” His smile is soft, transformative. “It’s better.”

The panic recedes slightly, replaced by hope, or the beginning of it. “You really want this?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He kisses my forehead, lingering. “You’re carrying our baby. The most perfect thing I could ever have imagined.”

I close my eyes, letting myself picture it—a child with his pale eyes and my stubborn chin. Teaching them to fight but also to love. Showing them the world’s darkness but also its light.

“What if I can’t love it enough? What if the trauma?—”

“You’ll love our baby, the way you love me.” His voice carries no doubt, no hesitation. “We’ll get help if we need it. Professional counseling, whatever it takes. But I’ve seen you with those children we rescued. You have so much love in you, Jenna. More than enough.”

“Our baby,” I whisper.

“Our baby.” He helps me to my feet, steadying me when my knees threaten to buckle. “Are you okay? Do you need?—”

“Just you.” I lean into him, letting his strength support me. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that no matter what happens—if Project Architect comes for us, if the past catches up—you’ll protect the baby first. Before me, before yourself. Our child comes first.”

His jaw tightens, the predator in him rebelling against the idea of sacrificing me. But after a long moment, he nods. “I promise.”

Relief floods through me, washing away the last of the panic. We can do this. We’re not normal, will never be normal, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe our brand of broken can raise a child who’s stronger for having seen the darkness and chosen the light anyway.

“I love you,” I tell him, meaning it with every damaged piece of my soul.

“I love you too.” He kisses me softly. “Both of you.”

When we break apart, his eyes are bright with unshed tears. The sight of this deadly, controlled man undone by the simple fact of our baby’s existence makes warmth unfurl in my chest.

We’re going to be parents. Terrifying, broken, violent parents who will love this baby with a fierce protectiveness born from our own lack of protection.

And maybe that’s enough.

42

NIKOLAI

The question comes at Infinity, two weeks after the pregnancy test changed everything.

I’m nursing a whiskey at the bar, watching Jenna pick at her salad. Theon’s been monitoring her like a hawk—blood work twice weekly, custom vitamin supplements, strict dietary guidelines. She tolerates his hovering because she knows it comes from care, but I catch her rolling her eyes when he starts lecturing about folic acid again.

My phone buzzes. Client call.

“Vex.”