24. Cara

Chapter twenty-four

Cara

T he cloying scent of jasmine incense burns my nostrils as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dark circles rim my eyes, stark against my warm brown skin, now sallow with exhaustion. Good. Let the world see a woman ravaged by grief, a fragile creature on the verge of shattering.

It's what they expect, after all.

I trace the swell of my belly, feeling our child shift restlessly within. A wave of nausea hits me, and I swallow hard, willing it to pass. This pregnancy has been anything but easy, each day a reminder of what – of who – I'm missing.

"We're going to get Daddy back," I whisper in a mix of Italian and Igbo, languages of my heritage that I hope to pass on to our child. The words are a solemn vow. "No matter what it takes."

With practiced hands, I begin my daily ritual of deception. Concealer to hide the determination blazing in my eyes. Blush to fake a fevered desperation on my high cheekbones, a feature I inherited from my Nigerian father. A tremor in my fingers as I apply mascara – not from fear, but from the rage that simmers just beneath my skin.

As I dress, choosing clothes that make me look smaller, more vulnerable, my mind races. Here I am, a pregnant first-generation Nigerian-Italian woman, conspiring with a notorious crime lord to save my white husband from his psychotic mother. The absurdity of it all hits me like a punch to the gut, and I have to grip the edge of the sink to steady myself.

If someone had told me a year ago this would be my life, I'd have laughed in their face. But that was before. Before June. Before Elaine. Before I knew the depths of love and hatred I was capable of feeling.

I pull on an oversized sweater that swallows my frame, leggings that emphasize my pregnant belly. My reflection stares back at me – the very picture of a woman defeated, brought low by circumstance. To the outside world, I'm just another brown girl who got in over her head, easy to dismiss and easier to ignore.

If only they knew the inferno raging within me.

The streets of the city pulse with life as I make my way to the rendezvous point. Every face is a potential threat, every shadow concealing Elaine's watchful eyes. I hunch my shoulders, avert my gaze, play the part of prey even as my predator's instincts scream to fight.

A sharp pain lances through my lower back, and I stumble slightly. Breathe, Cara. Just breathe. The doctor's warning echoes in my mind – the strain of stress on my body, on our baby. But what choice do I have? To give up now would be to condemn June, to condemn our child to a life under Elaine's twisted influence.

The cafe comes into view, a study in calculated mediocrity – forgettable decor, unremarkable patrons, the kind of place that blends into the background of a thousand similar establishments. Perfect for our purposes.

I spot Dante immediately, his expensive suit at odds with our surroundings. To anyone watching, he could be a lawyer, maybe, or a sympathetic businessman offering charity to a woman in need.

If they only knew the blood on his hands, the empire of shadows he commands.

"Mrs. Deveaux," he greets me, his voice pitched low. "Please, sit."

I slide into the booth across from him, allowing a flicker of desperate hope to cross my features. "Do you have news?" I ask, my voice cracking just so. "Please, tell me there's something we can do."

Dante's eyes soften with well-practiced sympathy. "We're doing everything we can, I assure you. But these things take time."

As he speaks, feeding me carefully crafted misinformation meant for Elaine's ears, I parse through his words for the real intel. June is safe, for now. The guards Dante paid off are in place. But Elaine's reach is long, her influence seeping into every crack of the system.

My heart races, hope and fear warring in my chest. I nod, wide-eyed and desperate, even as my mind catalogs each piece of information. When he's done, I grasp his hand across the table. "Thank you," I whisper, injecting just the right amount of pathetic gratitude into my tone. "You've given me hope."

Dante's mask slips for just a moment, and I catch a glimpse of the ruthless crime lord beneath the polished exterior. "We'll get him back, Cara," he murmurs, his voice hard as steel. "And we'll make them pay for every second they've kept you apart."

A shiver runs down my spine, equal parts fear and anticipation. I chose this alliance, this dance with the devil, and I'll see it through to whatever bitter end awaits us.

As I leave the cafe, I spot a familiar face lurking at a corner table. One of Elaine's lackeys, no doubt sent to monitor my movements. Good. Let him report back on my broken spirit, my pitiful grasping at straws.

Let them think they've won.

Back at the apartment, I shed the mask of despair like a second skin. Judith is waiting, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of my transformation.

"You're getting good at this," she says, a note of concern in her voice.

I meet her gaze, unflinching. "I'll do whatever it takes to bring June home. To keep our family safe."

She nods, but I see the flicker of worry in her eyes. "Just... don't lose yourself in the process, Cara. June wouldn't want that."

Her words hit harder than I expect, cracking the armor I've built around my heart. For a moment, I allow myself to feel the full weight of our separation, the ache of June's absence like a physical wound.

"I won't," I promise, my voice thick with unshed tears. "But I can't sit back and do nothing. Not when he's out there, alone, thinking I've abandoned him."

Judith pulls me into a fierce hug, and I let myself sink into the comfort of her embrace. For just a moment, I'm not Cara the fighter, Cara the schemer. I'm just a scared, pregnant woman who misses her husband with every fiber of her being.

"He knows, Cara," Judith murmurs into my hair. "He knows you're fighting for him. We all are."

As night falls, I retreat to the nursery we'd barely started preparing. I run my fingers over the half-finished mural, the supplies gathering dust. A mobile of stars and moons hangs motionless above the empty crib, a cruel reminder of the dreams we'd dared to dream.

I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and allow myself a moment of weakness. Tears stream down my face as I clutch my swollen belly, feeling the strong kicks of the life within.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to our unborn child, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry you have to come into this world of shadows and lies. But I swear to you, I'll make it right. I'll bring your daddy home, and we'll be the family we were meant to be."

The moment passes, and I wipe away the tears with a determined hand. There's work to be done.

I pull out the encrypted laptop Dante provided, diving into the web of information we've gathered. Financial records, hospital logs, whispered rumors – each a thread in the tapestry of Elaine's corruption. And somewhere in this digital labyrinth is the key to bringing her down.

Hours pass, my eyes burning as I pore over document after document. A pattern begins to emerge – a series of transfers to an offshore account, coinciding with the dates of June's "treatments" at Faulkner's facility.

My blood runs cold as the implications sink in. This goes beyond Elaine, beyond even Faulkner. There's a whole network involved, a shadow organization profiting from the pain and suffering of God knows how many victims.

A notification pops up – a secure message from Sarah. My heart races as I decrypt it:

"Assigned to new facility. Something's wrong here. Patients... not what they seem. Amethyst is here, heavily sedated. She's pregnant, Cara. But it's not what you think. Need to talk. Urgent."

I sit back, my mind whirling. Sarah, unknowingly placed exactly where we need her to be. And Amethyst – pregnant? My hand instinctively goes to my own swollen belly as a chill runs down my spine. What the hell is going on in that place?

It's almost too perfect, too convenient. A tendril of suspicion curls in my gut. Can we truly trust Sarah? Or is she another pawn in Elaine's elaborate game?

I reach for my phone, fingers hovering over Dante's number. He could have them both extracted, brought in for questioning. We could finally get some concrete answers about what's really going on in these facilities.

But something stops me. A memory of Sarah's kind eyes, the risks she took to help June escape. And Amethyst – despite everything, she's a victim in this too. If they are innocent, if they truly need help... bringing Dante's people in could put them in terrible danger.

I make my decision. We'll use Sarah's information, but cautiously. Trust, but verify. It's a dangerous game we're playing, and one false move could cost us everything.

I type out a response, encrypting it heavily:

"Stay safe. Gather what intel you can, but don't take unnecessary risks. Keep Amethyst safe if you can. We'll be in touch with extraction plan soon."

As I hit send, the weight of this new information settles over me like a lead blanket. Amethyst, pregnant and held against her will. Other patients, other victims, trapped in Elaine's web. The scale of this conspiracy is staggering, the depths of depravity unfathomable.

But with each new revelation, my resolve only strengthens. We're not just fighting for June anymore, or even just for our family. We're fighting for all of them – every soul caught in Elaine's twisted machinations.

I caress my belly, feeling our child shift restlessly within. "We're going to end this," I promise, my voice steel-edged with determination. "For all of us. For every family she's tried to destroy."

A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself. The stress, the lack of sleep, the constant state of high alert – it's taking its toll. I should rest, should take better care of myself for the baby's sake. But every moment of inaction feels like a betrayal, like I'm abandoning June to his fate.

I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly as another wave of lightheadedness hits. Maybe Judith is right. Maybe I am pushing myself too hard.

But then I think of June, alone in that cold cell, surrounded by enemies. I think of the horrors he endured at Faulkner's hands, the scars that mar his beautiful soul. And I know that I can't stop, can't rest, until he's safe in my arms again.

I make my way to the kitchen, brewing a pot of decaf coffee. The rich aroma fills the air, a poor substitute for the caffeinated nectar I crave, but it'll have to do. As I wait for it to brew, I find myself drawn to the window, staring out at the sleeping city.

Somewhere out there, Elaine is plotting her next move. Somewhere, June is fighting to hold onto hope, to remember who he is beneath the lies they've tried to plant in his mind.

And here I am, caught in the middle, a player in a game where the stakes are higher than I ever could have imagined.

A sharp kick from the baby startles me from my reverie. I place a hand on my belly, feeling the strong movements within. "I know, little one," I murmur, a sad smile tugging at my lips. "I miss him too."

The coffee maker beeps, and I pour myself a cup, savoring the warmth as I cradle it in my hands. It's in quiet moments like these that the weight of what we're facing truly hits me. The enormity of going up against someone like Elaine, with all her power and resources. The risk we're taking, not just with our own lives, but with the future of our child.

I think of June's smile, of the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. I think of the life we dreamed of building together, the family we fought so hard to create. And I know that there's no power on this earth that could make me give up on that dream.

But doubt creeps in, insidious and persistent. Am I doing the right thing, working with someone like Dante? His world is one of violence and shadows, of power bought with blood. Is this really the path I want to walk, the legacy I want to leave for our child?

I close my eyes, remembering the feel of June's arms around me, the safety and love I found in his embrace. No. This isn't about right or wrong anymore. This is about survival. About protecting what's mine at any cost.

A soft knock at the door sends my heart racing. Who could be here at this hour? I grab the gun hidden in the kitchen drawer – a precaution Dante insisted on – and approach cautiously.

"Cara?" Judith's voice calls softly from the other side. "It's me. We need to talk."

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding, lowering the gun. When I open the door, Judith's face is pale, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination.

"What is it?" I ask, ushering her inside. "What's happened?"

Judith takes a deep breath, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. "I've been doing some digging of my own," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I think I might have found something. Something big."

My pulse quickens as she pulls out a folder, spreading documents across the kitchen table. Financial records, medical reports, grainy surveillance photos – a tapestry of corruption laid bare before my eyes.

"It's not just about June," Judith explains, her voice tight with suppressed rage. "Elaine's been running this operation for years. Manipulating people, breaking them down and rebuilding them to suit her needs. And the babies..." She breaks off, a sob catching in her throat.

"What about the babies?" I press, a chill running down my spine.

Judith meets my gaze, her eyes haunted. "They're creating them, Cara. Designer children, bred for specific traits. And the ones that don't meet their standards... God, I can't even talk about it."

The room spins, and I grab onto the back of a chair to steady myself. This is worse than we imagined, worse than anything I could have dreamed up in my darkest nightmares.

"We have to stop her," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "We have to burn this whole fucking operation to the ground."

Judith nods, a fierce light blazing in her eyes. "That's why I'm here. I have a plan, but it's dangerous. Risky as hell. And I need your help to pull it off."

As she outlines her idea, I feel something shift inside me. The last vestiges of the old Cara – naive, trusting, willing to see the good in everyone – fall away.

In her place stands someone new. Someone forged in the crucible of loss and betrayal, tempered by rage and an unshakable determination to protect what's hers.

I am Cara fucking Deveaux. And I will tear apart heaven and earth to bring my family home.

As dawn breaks, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I stand at the window once more. But this time, I'm not lost in reflection or mired in despair.

This time, I'm planning a war.

Elaine thought she could break us, tear us apart and reshape us in her image. She thought she could play God with our lives, with the lives of countless innocents.

She's about to learn just how wrong she was.

Because I am no longer prey. I am the predator, circling in for the kill. And when I'm done, there won't be enough left of Elaine Deveaux to fill a thimble.

"Hold on, June," I whisper, pressing a hand to the cool glass. "I'm coming for you. For all of you. And heaven help anyone who stands in my way."

The baby kicks, strong and insistent, as if in agreement. I smile, a fierce, feral thing that would make June proud.

"That's right, little one," I murmur, steel in my voice. "We're Deveauxs. And Deveauxs don't go down without a fight."

I turn from the window, my mind already racing with plans and contingencies. There's work to be done, allies to rally, an empire of shadows to dismantle.

But for the first time in weeks, I feel something other than fear and despair.

I feel hope. Dangerous, wild, intoxicating hope.

And I know, with a bone-deep certainty, that we're going to win this thing.

Watch out, Elaine. Your days are numbered.

And I'm coming for everything you hold dear.