Chapter two

I try to move silently down the marble stairs in my heels, gripping the banister to keep my steps as quiet as possible. If Arlo hears me, he'll undoubtedly try to stop me.

When I reach the bottom, I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. There he is in the distance, covered in the dim light of the kitchen. He is leaned over the counter, his back to me, his head down as he swirls a glass of whiskey his hand, the ice inside clinking while he mindlessly turns the amber liquid into a whirlpool.

The sight of him—shirtless and lost in thought—strikes a chord deep inside me. As my heart twinges with sorrow, my eyes drift over his powerful, tattooed back. I notice the burn scars on his left shoulder, the tattoos now a patchy gray mess, and the scar of the bullet wound that nearly ended him.

The sight takes me back to that horrific night, and I'm overwhelmed by memories of how I desperately fought not to lose him. A tear slips down my cheek as I remember the panic and how helplessness I felt.

He lifts the glass to his lips, tilts it back in one gulp, then hisses and slams it down on the counter. Staring at him and seeing him so broken and vulnerable, makes me ache to comfort him. I want to touch him, to hold him close and tell him everything will be okay, that we will be okay, but the truth is, I don't feel like I'm that person anymore. I don't have the strength to heal his wounds when mine are still so raw and open.

If his story is true, then I can only imagine the pain he's going through, believing that coming back would mend both of us immediately, but this reunion has shattered those hopes since it's been nothing like either of us expected.

We're both so fucking lonely, standing right in front of each other yet feeling miles apart. We're close enough to reach out and touch, yet the space between us feels impossible. We're both hurting, but neither of us can bridge the gap or make the pain go away.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away my emotions, then glance at the door as headlights pierce through the glass panelling. I take a deep breath, readying myself before quietly making my way toward the door.

But as I reach for the handle and begin to pull it open, I'm startled when his large, tattooed hand slams it shut with force above me. I close my eyes and lower my head.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he growls into my ear.

"I have business to take care of," I assert, tugging at the door handle, but he pushes it shut again. I side-eye him, frustration clear in my voice. "I'm leaving this house whether you like it or not, Arlo."

"Not without me at this time of night, you're fucking not," he snarls as he presses his lips roughly against me, his patience visibly wearing thin.

I roll my eyes, trying to maintain my confidence. "I've done just fine without you so far. I don't need your fucking assistance."

In a swift movement, he grabs my wrist, spinning me to face him. His snatch on my face is forceful as he slams my head back against the door, reminding me exactly who the fuck he is.

My entire body tenses under his touch as he pinches my cheeks with a furious hiss against my lips. "You may be carrying my daughter, and I may love you to fucking death, but don't fuck with me, Wren," he warns, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"I'm fucking coming with you," he insists.

Annoyance makes my teeth clench, but I know better than to push him when he's like this.

"Fine," I snap, glaring at him.

He searches my eyes before his gaze drops to my lips, causing me to draw a sharp breath, thinking he might kiss me again. When his eyes lock with mine once more, he nods slightly and steps back, releasing my face.

"Wait in the fucking car; I'll be a couple of minutes," he commands, leaving no room for question.

As he jogs up the stairs, I watch his strong back muscles flex, melting against the door and when he is out of sight, I straighten myself out, turn around and exit the mansion.

In the rear of the car, I sit alone with my thoughts, waiting for Arlo to join me. My mind races about his return to the Elite World. What if there's still people in New York who wanted him dead? The idea that he might die in front of me all over again tonight is almost too much to stomach.

As my anxiety starts to consume me, I see Arlo finally exit the mansion. He rounds the car and opens the door beside me, causing the vehicle to dip slightly as he gets in. I cast a sideways glance at him as he adjusts his pristine suit before I turn my attention to Joe, who looks puzzled. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know who Arlo is.

I let out a defeated sigh, not bothering to explain before shifting my focus back to the window. "To the spot, Joe," I command.

Without hesitation, he pulls away, and soon we're driving through the city towards Izzy. The car is plunged in a horrible silence, with only the occasional rustle of movement from Arlo as he glances my way now and then. I remain fixated on the passing streetlights and the nightlife of New York, trying to find solace in the city's lights.

"Where the fuck are we?" Arlo asks as soon as we pull up.

I don't answer him right away as I unclip my seatbelt and pull the pistol from my bag, the clink of the metal against my ring catching his attention.

"I moved spots when you died, Arlo," I reply, keeping my voice steady as I cock the weapon.

He raises an eyebrow when I glance at him, but before he can say anything more, I open the door and calmly step out into the chilly night air. My eyes scan the dark and eerie space as I slam the door behind me. Walking over the rocky gravel in my heels, I hear Arlo's heavy footsteps following close behind. His presence feels like a deathly shadow—both intimidating and oddly comforting.

We step into what looks like an abandoned building and I keep my gun close as I spot Dominic standing by the door that keeps Izzy locked up inside at the end of the hallway. When he sees Arlo behind me, his face turns pale and as we stop in front of him, he's so fixated on Arlo that he ignores me.

I give Arlo a side-long glance. "Stay here," I say firmly, and he scoffs at my audacity as I grab the handle and push it down.

Inside, I hide the gun behind my back and lean against the door, closing it with a soft click. Izzy is a wreck—bloody and battered in the middle of the room. Seeing her like this, I feel no sympathy, even if Arlo is back. She's hiding something from me, and I'm determined to find out what. Her loyalty to Savannah is clear, which annoys the hell out of me because it's about to get her killed.

I take a few steps toward her, noting the five men scattered around the room, shadowed in the corners and every single one has been working hard to get information out of her.

"Izzy, you have one last chance to tell me where the fuck Savannah is, or I'll have to let you go." I demand, my gaze taking in her swollen features.

Her eyes light up with a glimmer of hope when she sees me and hears the words, but I just shake my head slightly. "I meant, I'll blow your fucking brains out right here and now, Izzy. You're wasting my time and patience."

Her face falls as the realization sinks in until suddenly, the door behind me creaks open, and I close my eyes for a moment, sensing it's him even before he's fully in view. I open my eyes again and focus on Izzy, hearing his shoes clicking along the damp, cold floor until he halts beside me.

I glance sideways at him, and he stands tall and intimidating. Then I hear the familiar flick of his blade. My gaze returns to Izzy, who is now staring at him in utter shock, the same way I felt just hours ago. She's panting heavily, clearly more frightened of Arlo than she is of me. Arlo takes a small step forward, lifts his pants, and calmly crouches in front of her, his blade pointing in her direction.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here," he taunts, the metal of his knife gleaming in the light.

She shakes her head before looking directly into my eyes. "He's alive, or am I imagining things?"

My eyebrow raises, and just as I'm about to answer, Arlo cuts in. "Do you want me to show you how alive I am, Izzy? Because I haven't skinned someone alive for a very fucking long time. It's an itch I need to scratch."

I struggle to keep a sinister smirk from spreading across my face as Arlo makes his chilling threat right in front of me. There's something oddly satisfying about his raw, unfiltered menace—a part of him I'd never really seen before. I've never witnessed him as an Elite, let alone right beside him like this.

"Izzy, I'm not fucking around anymore. You know more than you're letting on. Tell me what you know, or I'll gladly unleash The Skinner on you."

Yes, I'll use Arlo to scare the hell out of her, and it definitely works—her eyes widen, and the fear in them even shocks me. She starts stuttering, blabbing addresses and information I've never heard before. When she's finished, I roll my eyes, fed up with her bullshit, and raise my gun toward her, my expression flat.

"It's about time, bitch."

I pull the trigger without warning and the bullet slams into her forehead, making her head snap back and blood splatter against the pillar behind her.

Arlo's head whips around to me, his eyes blazing with fury. "What the fuck, Wren?"

I ignore him and turn away, heading for the door. As I grasp the handle, I hear him catching up with me and I side-eye him as I pull the door open.

"What, Arlo?" I ask coldly.

"What if she was lying?" he snaps, his anger clear. "We could have fucked her over once we confirmed if the information was true or not!"

"She was wasting my time for way too long," I retort, frustration edging my voice. "You would know that if you were here."

I hear him following every step as I exit the building, his gaze definitely lingering on my ass the whole way. When I reach the car waiting for us, I get in and shut the door behind me. He slides in beside me, and I turn away, staring out the window as the car starts to move.

As we get further into the journey, he finally breaks the silence. "I don't like how you fucking handled that, Wren."

"Oh yeah? And whys that?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"You're fucking heavily pregnant, for one. You shouldn't be in the Elite world, especially in your condition," he bites out.

"You're right," I shoot back, anger flaring. "Maybe I should stop looking for the person who shot and killed my husband—considering he faked his own fucking death for six fucking months."

"Stop the fucking car!" Arlo barks, causing my entire body to tense.

Joe swerves to the side of the road with a screech of the tires without hesitation, and I furrow my brows in confusion.

"Don't stop the car!" My voice is a low growl. "Remember who you listen to, Joe!"

Joe glances at me apologetically. "Sorry, Mrs. Hayes."

The shame in his voice is clear, and it's obvious he now knows who Arlo fucking Hayes is. My teeth clench in irritation as Arlo flings open the door beside him and steps out of the car.

"Get the fuck out!" Arlo demands, yanking open Joe's door.

I roll my eyes as Joe exits the car. Arlo slams the door shut and takes the driver's seat before the car lurches forward with a screech, showing his frustration, but I try to stay composed as he drives us to an unknown location.

"Is this what you want?" Arlo's angry voice cuts through the silence. "Our baby to have a mom who's tangled up in the Elite world?"

I scoff at his audacity, still staring out the window beside me. "You've got some nerve, Arlo, especially after you did it with Cree. Your mom managed just fine raising you, too."

"And look how the fuck I turned out! An utter maniac!"

I glare at him through the rear-view mirror. "Stay the fuck out of it. You can't just come back and act like you have the right to tell me what to do!"

His jaw clenches, and his eyes darken with a dangerous intensity I haven't seen in a long time.

"Oh, I fucking can't, can't I?" he snarls.

He abruptly veers right and pulls up on a dark, quiet road, yanking the handbrake and unclipping his seatbelt. My heart races as I realize what he's about to do and I'm too fucking weak right now to stop him.

"Arlo, don't!" I shout, my tone tinged with desperation.

Ignoring me, he opens his door and steps out. I quickly unclip my seatbelt, bracing for what's coming next. The door on my far-right swings open, and I catch a glimpse of him ducking down.

I scramble back against the door, kicking at him with my heels. "Don't you fucking dare!" I scream, panic lacing my words.

In one swift motion, he grabs my ankle, pulling me to lay on the backseat. As he climbs over me, he slams the door shut with a resounding thud. My breath quickens with each pulse of fear as his massive frame looms over mine, his piercing gaze never leaving my face.

"You seem to have forgotten who's in charge while I was gone," he growls, low and dangerous.

I grab his tattooed throat with my small hands, glaring at him. "Your dick isn't going to change how much I fucking hate you right now!" I scream, tears of frustration and anger brimming in my eyes.

A dark, wicked smirk spreads across his lips, his eyes alight with challenge. "No? Maybe it won't, but it'll definitely fucking help."

With a sudden, forceful motion, he pins both of my wrists above my head with one of his powerful hands. I writhe beneath him, struggling against his tight grip.

"Get the fuck off me!" I shout furiously.

He grips my cheeks tightly with his other hand, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. Leaning in close, he whispers with a threatening edge, "One hard thrust of my big, pierced cock into your soaking wet cunt, and you'll fucking remember. I'll bring that little black heart of yours back to life in an instant."

His disgusting words stir a thrill in my core, making my entire body tense with conflicted emotions. I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing full well that even before I loved him, I was always weak for his touch. Arlo knows it too—despite my independence, there's a deep, automatic part of me that wants to give in to him.

Our relationship has always been a twisted balance of power. He's the one in charge, the force that commands and overwhelms, while I'm the one who fuels the fire, giving in to his every dark desire. He starts the blaze, and I fan the flames, feeding his sadistic cravings with my submission. I've always loved the way he makes me feel. Our connection has always been this—my willingness to give in to his control and his force to lead, creating a lust that neither of us can ever fully tame.

"Please, don't do this." I whisper, tears cascading from my eyes.

I'm not crying because I'm scared of him; it's the total opposite. I'm crying because I'm fucking frustrated and craving him so much but still trying hard not to give in so easily. Arlo knows this is his domain in our relationship—he's pushing himself onto me because he knows that his dominance is my weakness. He must truly believe that breaking through this barrier will bring us closer, just like it had before.

As he grinds against my core, teasing me, every bit of my stubbornness crumbles under the weight of my dsire.

My gasps betray me, my body responding, revealing just how much I need him, how much I desperately want him inside me and all the walls I've built up start to crumble away. His hips buck against mine, his clothed, hard cock slipping vertically against the slit of my pussy.

"Just cave into what we both want so badly, Wren," he murmurs, his lips almost brushing against mine.

"It won't change a thing, Arlo," I mutter back, my voice trembling. "We'll still be just as fucked in the head tomorrow morning."

His hand slides down between us to the crotch of my black tights, giving me little room to refuse any longer.

"But this is about us tonight," he rumbles lowly. "We both want each other. We need to feel each other. Fuck what happens tomorrow. You can hate me for the rest of our lives, but I'll still want you, still want us, because I fucking love you."

With one aggressive tug, his fingers rip through the crotch of my tights, the sound tearing through the quiet car. A low, hungry growl escapes him as his hand moves to the front of my lace panties, and the moment his fingers slide down my wet slit, I gasp, my body betraying me as every bit of resistance shatters.

I bite my bottom lip, yearning for more instantly as my hips buck against his hand and the tips of his fingers find my clit, where he begins to rub me forcefully through the fabric.

"Tell me you want to feel me fucking you, Wren. Let me make it right between us."

As soon as he tugs my panties aside, his fingers glide over my exposed pussy, rough and urgent. I can't help but moan, the feeling making me squirm beneath him.

"Just say the fucking word," he growls again, wanting me to give in vocally.

When he finally lets go of my wrists, I grab his hand almost desperately between my legs, making sure he doesn't stop. He slides his finger through and down my wet pussy lips, collecting my come before returning to my throbbing clit, his teeth flashing in a dark grin.

"You're still the same greedy fucking slut for me," he taunts.

Then, without hesitation, he plunges his thick fingers inside me, stretching me. I throw my head back, a loud moan escaping me as he pushes them further until they are knuckle-deep. Each thrust sends shockwaves through me.

"I'm gonna wreck this tight little cunt all over again," he snarls viciously against my lips.

I pant hard, feeling completely alive again with his fingers deep inside me, like he's reignited something I've been missing for too long. In a moment of tangled emotions—equal parts of hate and love—I wrap my arm securely around his strong shoulder, pulling him closer as I whisper harshly into his mouth, breathless.

"You bastard, shut the fuck up and ruin me."

He growls in response, immediately crashing his lips against mine, his pierced tongue pushing into my mouth with force. I take it all in, feeling it slide down my throat, hot and possessive. As he speeds up, finger banging me harder, my legs spread wider, instinctively making more room for him to delve even deeper.I know I'm close already. Six months without him touching me, without even touching myself—my body has only ever craved this man and now that he's here, back where he belongs, I'm ready to let him break me down, tear me the fuck apart, and own me again.

Our kiss turns frantic, raw, with tongues and teeth clashing in a desperate need to consume each other. I can barely think as I fumbling with his belt, hungry to feel him inside me. When I manage to get it loose, I drag his zipper down, my fingers shaking with need as I slip my hand into his tight boxers and grip his thick, hard shaft. I pull his big cock free, feeling the heat and weight of him in my palm.

He keeps working me over with his fingers, coiling and curling them perfectly inside me, pressing on that spot that drives me wild. It's like he knows every inch of my body better than I do, following a path only he can navigate. The bliss builds fast, too fast, and I can barely keep up with the pleasure he's dragging out of me.

As I jerk him off harder, his pre-cum slick against my skin, the orgasm suddenly hits me—an overwhelming wave that has me gasping and screaming out as my pussy clenches around his fingers, pulsing with release.Arlo keeps up his rough, relentless pace, driving me higher as the euphoria tears through me. My nails sink into his shoulder, gripping tightly as desire overwhelms every sense. Even when my hand falters on his dick, he grabs it, forcing me to keep stroking him until I feel the hot rush of his cum shoot across my pussy.

His forehead rests against my chest as we both gasp for air, trying to recover from the intensity of what just happened. I can't stop the small, involuntary movements of my hips as they twitch against his hand, still craving that last bit of release. His fingers slow down, dragging out every last tremor until I'm finished, the pleasure ebbing away but leaving behind a deep satisfaction.

He pulls his soaked fingers free before giving my pussy a teasing slap causing me to jolt. I pant heavily, my heart still racing, and as he lifts his head, he locks his eyes onto mine. There's a wildness there, but also something deeper, something that lingers in the air between us as we both come down from the high. Arlo's lips hover just above mine as I guide the tip of his pierced cock to my dripping entrance.

I murmur against his lips, desperate and needy, "I want you to fuck me hard, just like you used to. Don't hold back. Fucking destroy me. Make me feel ashamed of how well I took it."

But just as he's about to press into me, a sudden rush of warmth escapes me, and we both freeze. My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open in shock as we both quickly glance down between my legs, where a gush of water pools beneath me.

Before either of us can react, a searing pain grips my belly. My head snaps back, and I clutch my bump, groaning loudly as the pain intensifies.

"Please tell me that was some kind of delayed squirt. Wait, was that your fucking..." he trails off, and I release a tense breath, nodding despite the excruciating pain coursing through me.

"Yep," I respond through gritted teeth.

Without hesitation, he takes off my heels and quickly drags my tights and panties down my legs, his movements swift yet careful. He lifts me effortlessly to sit me up in the seat and I groan from the discomfort. The seatbelt clicks into place as he secures it over me, and then he pauses, his face close to mine.

For a moment, we just stare at each other as his eyes scan my every feature, realizing that this is it—the moment that changes everything. Our daughter is coming.

Arlo leans in, his hand sliding to the side of my neck. He presses his lips to my forehead, warm and comforting against my sweaty skin, and my eyes close at the touch. He lingers before resting his brow against mine, "I'm sorry for everything, baby; I truly fucking am. We're going to get through this together as a family."

My eyes brim with tears as they slowly flutter open. His words hit me hard, more than I expected, and I watch him pull away.

"Let's get you to the hospital," he says, and I can feel the shift in him—focused and protective.

As he jumps to the driver's seat, I grip the edge of the door, trying to stay composed despite the intense waves of pain crashing over me.