Chapter Twenty-Eight

There's officially a bump beneath my—Aleko's—T-shirt, and I'm positive I felt a fluttering after I used the bathroom this morning. For probably the first time since I found out I'm pregnant, it's beginning to feel real, and I'm excited to meet our little Peanut.

My problem, though, is my very frustrating, very overbearing, extremely stubborn Psycho.

I honestly don't know how much longer I can make allowances for his overprotective behavior because it feels like it's slowly crushing my soul. Being locked up here on the compound, told what I can and can't do… it's too close to how I lived under the rule of the Toxic Rebels.

It fucking hurts because I love him with every piece of me, but it's like he's keeping himself at a distance. I suppose I can't blame his lack of trust, all things considered, but it doesn't help. I wish I could throttle past-me.

I'm well aware I'm living in a cage of my own making.

The final street race night of the season is due any time now, and I was so looking forward to an opportunity to get out of here—not that I'd be allowed to ride— but a mass text was sent out a few days ago about the race chief being hospitalized, so it's delayed until he's better. I get it, it wouldn't be right to see out the season without him. He's like a silent wall of complete calm and has zero allegiances to any club or individual racer. That's why he's the perfect race chief.

The thing is, now that I can't actually ride, I'm not even eligible to win the overall second place funds. Although, I'm not sure how that would have gone down with the Rebels all being out of jail now. They were the only ones who knew about me being Cain because I was, after all, racing for their club.

Next season, I'll be racing for myself, for the pure enjoyment of the ride, as soon as this little peanut is out of me and the hole in my leg is healed, of course.

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that it's been delayed.

The Rebels that are left, though, aren't all bad like their ex-president, Isaac, their ex VP, Jake, their ex Enforcer, Brick, and their ex secretary, Goblin: four dead men, who deserved nothing less than what they received.

The rest of the club were pretty oblivious, or just flat-out ignorant to what was going on with me. Booker and Cameron, the sergeant at arms and the road captain for the Toxic Rebels, were even kinda my friends. Well, acquaintances. They never participated in my beatings, but while they disagreed with the way Isaac handled the club—and me—they never tried to interfere from fear of literal death. I suppose they could be classed as guilty by association.

Again, all future me problems to deal with.

I carefully get out of bed, grab one of my crutches, and use the bathroom, noting how shit my hair looks in the mirror. It's like a bird has crawled up in there to make a nest. I should've braided it before bed last night while it was still wet, but it was so comforting to be held by Aleko that I just didn't bother to think about it.

It's almost nine o'clock and I'm not sure how long Aleko has been gone or when he woke up this morning, but his side of the bed is cold. Throwing on another dress Vanessa gave me—from a large bag of maternity clothes she had for reasons I didn't ask about—I let the material float down to my ankles and take a moment to appreciate the soft fabric and pretty blossom pattern detailing. Then I hop over to the door, because this mama is hungry and I'm not about to wait.

The handle doesn't budge… because it's fucking locked.

Anger bubbles inside me as I bang on the solid wood with my fist. "Let me out!"

"Sorry, Mac. Church." I recognize the voice, it's Bash, and he doesn't sound sorry at all.

"Unlock the door." I lower my tone, less shouty, hopefully making him more pliable.

The sound of him shuffling around and clearing his throat is all I get in response, so I bang on the door some more, alternating my fists because it's beginning to ache.

My crutch falls to the floor as I continue to bang against the door, then I hear him.

"What the ever-loving fuck?" Ah, there he is. My captor.

I hop back from the door as I hear the click of the lock, just before the knob twists and in walks the most infuriating man in the universe. Some of my anger dissipates when Aleko holds up a plate full of pancakes and bacon—it appears that food is my love language these days, thanks, baby peanut—but I'm still pissed that he chose to ignore my request to not lock me the fuck in.

"What's with all the noise, Cherry? I thought something was wrong." The tension in his shoulders falls, his frowning face evening out as he realizes I'm okay.

Even though I'm really not.

"Something is wrong, Aleko. Why was the door locked? Again." I rest one elbow against the dresser, my thigh aching a little so I'm trying to keep the weight off, and I place my other hand on my hip, raising my eyebrows in question.

"Considering your leg is clearly hurting right now, I'd say it was a good thing." He's struggling to maintain some semblance of calm if the slight twitch to his jaw is anything to go by, and he puts the plate of food down on the dresser by my arm. "Come on, let's sit down and I'll feed you."

Without warning, he scoops me up and walks me over to the bed, sitting me down before grabbing the plate and bringing it over to the bedside table.

"Aleko, I'm too angry to eat right now." Lies, but I'm on this hill. "Why did you lock me in when I asked you not to?" I clench my teeth, my lips tight together, and I'm trying to contain the goddamn tears that have snuck up from nowhere.

"Eat." There's a fork full of pancake and bacon, dripping in syrup, being held by my mouth, and my stomach rumbles but I'm not giving in. This can't happen again.

It may seem like a miniscule thing, but if we can't trust each other, what is there?

"No. Tell me why. I was asleep. Why would you think locking me in this suite is a good thing?" I push away the food, anger taking precedence because he seems to think brushing this under the proverbial rug is going to work again. It may not seem like the biggest deal in the world, but I need this to not happen again.

He takes a deep breath, putting the fork down on the plate and running a hand through his short hair in frustration.

"You've clearly got something to say, so come on. After I explicitly asked you not to lock me in here again… Why. Did. You. Lock. The. Door?" I'm goading him now, trying to get a response that isn't an attempt at subduing me.

"You really wanna know, Cherry?" He looks up at me from where his head is hanging, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together in prayer.

"Yes. I do."

Huffing a laugh, he shakes his head while inhaling deeply, as if he's trying to contain himself when I'm the fucking angry one here.

"When I asked you to trust me with your life, you took it upon yourself to end it. Wh—"

"What has that got to do with locking me in your fucking suite?"

Aleko squints his eyes at my interruption, and all I can see is pain swirling within the depths. This is my doing. I'm hurting him, but I can't seem to stop. I'm on this train and there are apparently no brakes.

"It has fucking everything to do with it, Mackenzie." Pushing the chair back, he stands, both hands flying to his head when Ninja pokes his little nose out from Aleko's hood. He must have been sleeping. "Sorry, buddy." Ninja climbs down his arm and into his waiting palm just as Jonesy knocks on the already open door, waving some mail in the air.

"Mail"s here. There's a letter here for Scarlet Green. Sledge said that was you, Mac?"

Aleko and I don't move, him standing at the end of the bed, me sitting on it, both of us seething from our interrupted argument.

"Erm, I'll put it on this table." I can see him moving out of the corner of my eye, but my focus is on my angry man.

"Jonesy, take Ninja to the garages to sit with Bear in the office." Every word is spoken to the prospect, but his penetrating stare is still on me.

"Sure thing." He comes further into the room and holds out his palm, which Ninja eagerly jumps onto because Jonesy has picked up a carrot stick from the table for him. "Want me to close the door on my way out?" He disappears from my line of sight and neither of us answer him. "I'll do it anyway."

There are a few minutes of silence as we continue to stare at each other before I huff and shuffle across the bed to stand and get my mail from the table by the door. It can only be from the doctor's office, since that's the only place that I'm expecting anything from as well as the only place that has my new persona's information. The results scare the fuck out of me and I don't want to look, so I'll just hold the envelope for a while.

"Sit the fuck down. Here." He throws the mail onto the bed next to me before I'm fully standing, all one envelope of it. "Oh, she can do as she's told. Well done."

I glare at him as he slow-claps sarcastically when I remain on the bed.

"What the fuck, Aleko?" The envelope is in my hands and I'm tearing open the top without really paying attention to what I'm doing. Adrenaline is coursing through me, making me shake uncontrollably and causing my vision to blur with unshed tears.

"You died, Mackenzie. The—"

"I apologized for that! I thought we—"

"Stop fucking interrupting me, will ya? You died!" His voice is raised, his hands back behind his head, and he looks to the ceiling. "Then I got you back only to fucking lose you again. You nearly got yourself killed for real because you didn't do what I asked, and you didn't just put yourself in danger. Grinder's in the fucking hospital in a coma, Kincaid, well, she's fine, but you nearly died and so did that little baby growing inside of you. Our baby. Could. Have. Died. Mackenzie." When he lowers his head and meets my gaze, it's like a shot to the heart because he's so angry with me. "I did what I had to do to keep you safe. If you left this room without me and fell down those stairs because you can't hold weight on your leg, you could kill yourself and our baby. If I have to lock the damn door to keep you from doing that, then so be it." He holds his arms out to the sides, palms out, as if to say that's the end of this conversation.

It's not.

"I told you I'd leave if you did it again." What he's saying makes complete sense, and I hate that it's all true. It's eating me up inside how stupid I've been, but it's always with good intentions so he should recognize that.

"You're not going fucking anywhere, Cherry. I'll give Bash the key when I'm in New York. You and our baby will be right here when I come back." Aleko slides out a duffle bag from beneath the bed and opens some dresser drawers, pulling out T-shirts and boxers to put in the bag.

I'm gobsmacked at his audacity. Like, really? Before I reply, the letter in my hand catches my attention, the words at the top smashing my heart to pieces like a sledgehammer. An uncontrollable laugh escapes at the same time as the tears that have been brewing for the last ten minutes. Oh, the fucking irony.

"What's so fucking funny?" He pauses in the middle of shoving the spare gun from his dresser into the bag.

"It's not even your fucking baby." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I'm filled with regret and the tears become so heavy I can barely see. Crumpling up the letter, I throw the ball at him and stand, grabbing my other crutch and hobbling into the bathroom where I slam the door.

I'm worthless to him now.

Silence greets me as my tears stop falling, not a sound from the other side of this wall. He's not even trying to get in, to speak to me, to tell me it's all going to be okay. I've fucked it all.

I swallow my pride, because everything he said is true. No secrets, no lies. That was how we were supposed to begin, and I'm the one who's not been following his one rule. I shouldn't have told him the news like that, but I hate it. Shock, anger, confusion, despair… they're all rolling through my body at the information from that letter and I'm not equipped to handle the high emotions.

I got through my life with the Rebels by having a plan. Now, I have nothing.

No plan, no home, no job, I can't ride, I'm a shit mother before the baby's even born, I probably killed the father…

With a stuttered sigh, I grip my crutch and stand from the toilet seat, opening the bathroom door.

Silence greets me.

The balled up paper is still on the floor, where it landed when I threw it at Aleko. It looks untouched.

Sadness begins to overwhelm me, overtaking the anger that has done me zero favors. I have every right to be mad, but so does he, and I wish I could take back the vitriol I attacked him with.

Maybe he hasn't left yet, just maybe…

The knob of the door won't turn… my stomach twists into a thousand knots and I collapse onto the floor, the stabbing ache from my thigh a welcome pain as I sob into my palms.

I made a promise.

Inhaling another stuttered breath, I rub at my eyes and come to a decision.

Probably another fucking stupid one but, at this point, I've got nothing left to lose.