Chapter 43

I can't be a mother. I just can't. Everything about being a mom scares me. The worry, the fear, the fact that another human's life is literally in your hands. Not to mention the lack of sleep, dealing with attitudes as they get older, being responsible for emotional development.

Holding Boris or Cillian's baby in my arms sounds like a dream; it's everything after that which terrifies me.

What if we disagree on parenting styles? Or what if the kid grows up and moves far away from us because what we do is too scary? Could I raise my child to then simply let them go? Let them figure out their own lessons the hard way?

Then, I have to take into account the type of people we deal with. They would be at risk, their life would always be at risk.

I can see it now, raising them to be strong and teaching them all of these skills just to have them resent all of us in the end and run away. Only for them to eventually be kidnapped and tortured by someone as unhinged as Green, and maybe even killed before we could get to them.

Or worse, they grow up in this life, love it, and become a ruthless assassin with no morals or sense of right and wrong. It's wrong to kill people. Well, most of the time. But how do you teach a child the difference? What age is it appropriate to buy them a gun?

Oh my god. Cillian is going to buy them a gun before they can walk, I know it. Then, Boris is going to yell, and it'll confuse the kid as I sit there and try to explain the situation.

Some people say there's no manual for raising kids, but that's not true! Tons of people have written manuals, but no one has ever written a book about how to raise a child in a crime family.

Maybe I should write that book?

No, stop it, Nessa. We aren't going there because we aren't having this baby.

Doc is coming back soon with equipment to see if the pregnancy is even viable. There's a possibility it's not, and I've done all of this worrying for nothing.

A knock sounds at the door, and I close my eyes to collect some strength because the look Boris gave me when I told him we can't keep this baby already took everything out of me.

My nausea has finally subsided, and Boris removed the IV once the fluids finished. He looked like he needed some space, so I told him to leave. I couldn't stand the way he was staring at me, hope and disappointment warring in his eyes.

"Come in," I say, knowing it's Cillian. He never wanted kids; maybe he'll be on my side here. Except, the moment he enters the room, I can see it on his face too. He wants this baby.

I turn away from him in the bed, intent on hiding my face so that he can't see how angry I am. It hurt when he left, but I would have done the same if I could have, so I can't fault him for it.

"Ness?"

I shake my head, refusing to look back at him.

"Please, just hear me out."

The plea and pain in his voice makes me want to stab him. He isn't the one making this decision. He isn't the one whose shoulders this falls on at the end of the day. They may hate me for making the problem go away, but what if I keep the baby and they hate me later for bringing a child into this world who will always be at risk?

It's a lose-lose situation .

"We are not talking about this, Cillian." I almost never use his actual name. Not since the day he asked me to be his. I can see how much it hurts him when I finally give in and face him.

"This is our decision too."

His anger is boiling over, I can practically see him fuming. Cillian has his fists clenched at his sides and his scowl stubbornly set in place. "This is our baby too. You can't make a decision like this for all of us."

I toss the blankets aside and stand in front of him, pushing his chest even as the IV line tugs on my skin, causing the pole the saline hangs on to jerk to the side. "This is my body, my choice. I will be the one responsible for them, always. What if it isn't even yours? Will you resent me when the baby pops out and you see none of your features on their face?"

I shove him back again and he lets me.

"I don't care whose baby it is, Ness. I would die to have another piece of you in this world."

"That's the problem!"

I'm yelling, utterly losing my mind as I look at one of the men I love and tell him something I never wanted to have to tell either of them.

"I would never forgive you if you died for them. I know in my heart I would resent my own child if I lost one of you for saving them. I can't do this and risk losing you. I won't!"

I should have just gotten sterilized like Laney or asked my men to get vasectomies like Evie.

My face is hotter than I've ever felt, as I keep pushing Cillian until his back hits the wall. The IV line tugs again.

Screw this all to hell!

I rip the whole thing from my arm with a swift jerk. The site starts bleeding as saline drips onto the floor, but the feeling hardly registers over my anger.

"You don't get it, neither of you do! If we have a kid, someone will always have leverage over us. They will just be another reason for one of us to sacrifice ourselves. This life is already hard enough!"

"Then we can move away." He says it like it's so simple. Just run away and leave everything we have worked for, everyone we love. "We can leave this all behind."

I jerk my head as I scoff in his face.

"Leave our family behind? Leave everyone I have actual good relationships with? People who would be just as affected by this child as we would. Do you seriously not see the problem here? What happens if someone takes our child and demands the death of Evie in return? Or Laney?"

I try to push him again, but this time he grabs my hands and notices my arm bleeding. Carefully, he takes one of the gauze wrappings by the side of the bed and places it over the wound.

I'm still angry, but I let him help because it is starting to make a mess.

"You can't think like that, Sweetheart." Cillian pulls me back into him. "You can't think of the worst because there's a high possibility it'll never happen."

I tilt my head in astonishment as I fight to get out of his hold.

"Name one of us who has not been kidnapped or has not had to run for their lives at some point."

His lips part, but then he closes them. I can see that he gets where I'm coming from. Still, he keeps speaking, unable to stop himself now.

"We can protect them. I will protect them."

I clench my jaw, my anger becoming too much to handle.

"Just like you protected me?"

It was a low blow, and I know that. But he needs to understand. They both need to understand why this can't happen.

Cillian drops my hands as anguish fills his features. I want to take it back because I have forgiven him. But I don't; I don't say anything as he turns and walks out of the room.

Instead, I grab a pillow from the bed and chuck it at the door, but it doesn't satisfy my frustration. I need to break something. I need to destroy something. I need to stop this feeling from overtaking all of my senses and leaving me a helpless pile of unuseful emotions.

Screaming isn't enough right now. It's like I have the anger of a thousand armies pent up under the surface of my skin, and it's ripping me apart.

Heading to the closet, I open the safe hidden behind the dresser and pull out my rifle along with a full clip of ammunition. The best part about working for an assassination organization…there's always someone, somewhere, that needs to die.

???

My killing spree was not nearly as eventful as I had hoped. I only used two bullets to remove some men who were breaching Alexi's territory by threatening a few new businesses under his protection.

Normally, Damien makes a show of why you don't mess with them. But when I called Alexi and said I needed some targets, he just gave me their names.

One thing I love about that guy is that he can tell when someone's on the edge just by their voice alone. He didn't ask for an explanation or tell me to be careful. He just gave me the names and locations and requested photographic evidence when I was done.

When I send him the pictures, he responds with a thumbs up emoji. That's exactly what I needed. Someone to just let me deal with this on my own.

When I arrive back at the house, Doc has everything set up in the bedroom. I want to ask Cillian and Boris to leave, but I don't have the energy left to fight with them. So instead, I get on the bed and pull up my shirt like Doc asks with Cillian sitting by my side and Boris standing next to us.

Warm jelly coats my stomach as Doc presses a wand to my skin, sliding the device around to give us some answers. When a wave appears at the bottom of the screen, and a small foot comes into view, I swear everything in the room stops. There is no movement. No sound. The only think I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.

I reach my hands out and instantly Boris holds my right and Cillian holds my left. Letting out a sigh of relief, I'm glad they stayed because all I want to do now is cry more.

Doc continues to move the wand, and we get a side profile as the small body seems to rotate a bit. Then, he presses a button, and a quiet woosh, woosh, woosh fills the room.

"Doc?" I have no idea what I'm asking, but he seems to understand the question for the both of us.

"It looks like you're around fifteen weeks, or nearly four months based on the size. I do not see the IUD in there, so it's fairly safe to say that you either passed it during the trauma, or it's in an area not causing any issues. Blood flow looks good, and as you can hear, the heartbeat is strong."

I nod but refuse to look at my men. Before I heard the heartbeat or saw that tiny little foot, it was easy to say I couldn't be a mother. But the thing I just realized for myself is, I already am one.

A tear falls down my cheek—because making this decision feels so much harder now.

"You can still terminate the pregnancy," Doc informs me as he begins to wipe down my stomach.

Both of my men tighten their grip on my hands. "But I would make a decision soon. The longer you go, the harder it will be on your body, and it's unlawful in most countries to terminate after nine weeks, but others go to fourteen. Ultimately, it's your decision because we don't have to worry about laws here. I would just advise you to make it soon."

"Can you give me one week?" I ask and he nods his agreement.

"The blood tests should tell me the gender, if you wish to know."

Immediately, I shake my head no. That will make it too real. I need a clear head and time to think, and I won't be able to do that if I keep thinking of this tiny thing as a person.

Doc doesn't look at my men, making me feel so much more comfortable with him. This is my decision, and I have a strong feeling he will fight for it to stay that way, even if Boris or Cillian have something to say about it.

He packs up his equipment and leaves, the room eerily silent after the latch clicks. I'm still on the side of the bed, Cillian lying next to me, and Boris is standing beside us with my hands in theirs.

"One week?" Cillian asks.

"One week," I agree.

After hearing their angry, heartsick words, the least I can do is give them a chance to convince me this is our best choice. If not, then I'll make the impossible decision that they could not and carry that burden for all of us.