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I stopped, turning toward the sound of Lucas’s voice. He looked—well, he looked worried, and I knew it was aimed at me, not the war. “I’m fine.”
“No you aren’t,” he bit out. “Look at you. This stress isn’t good for the baby.”
“We are living in stress,” I answered, knowing my words were harsh. “And it won’t go away until my father is dead, Lucas!” He was never going to stop ruining our lives until one of us was dead.
Lucas reached for me, but I pulled from his embrace, not wanting to be coddled right now. All I wanted was to feel my father’s blood on my hands, to watch him die, begging for life. I wanted to see my brother and his family released and unharmed.
I wanted to know that everyone I loved, everyone I cared about, was safe.
But in order for something like that to happen, I had to do the unthinkable, and Lucas wasn’t about to let that happen.
Turning toward him, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I have to give myself to my father.”
