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Chapter Seventeen
CHRISTINE
I stomped down the street, my hood pulled close as I held my middle. Ever since I saw those two pink lines, I felt this overwhelming awareness of my stomach, as if it weighed me down. I was sure I was going to be sick, but I kept walking, trying to keep myself from thinking of the surreal situation I was in.
August was beside me, his boots scuffing against the pavement. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” he asked, his voice gentle yet strained with worry.
I swallowed hard and nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure. I was still reeling with the fact that Theodore DuPont and Lord Nathan knew about my pregnancy before I even did.
I took a deep breath and looked up at August. “Let’s just get it over with,” I said, my voice trembling.
August hesitated, then grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I could feel the warmth of his touch, and a feeling of comfort flowed through me. He nodded in agreement, and together, we made our way toward the soup kitchen.
My stomach fluttered with nerves. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t feel pregnant. I was sore, sure. But I’d also fought my way out of a castle and gone on the run. If a regular person had tried to fight off the guards like that—not that anyone else could have—they’d have been killed immediately. Fuck, it was so reckless. It was dangerous, but it got the job done. What if I’d gotten hurt? What if the baby had been hurt? I didn’t know what to think about that—it was too bizarre, too terrifying to really take in. “Christine?” August asked again.
“She’s fine,” Eva said tersely. “Stop hovering.”
I didn’t know her well, but I liked the girl. She reminded me a lot of myself—the way she joked and the way she thought about things. Something about her energy made me feel connected to her.
“Have you had any water today?” Atticus asked. I ignored him. I hadn’t been taking very good care of myself. Hadn’t been careful. A surge of guilt swept over me like a deluge.
“I think so,” I spat.
“Here.” He opened a bottle of water and helped me drink it.
“Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?” Atticus asked while helping me up a curb.
“I’m fine.”
“No. You’re not fine,” he snapped.
“Christine, maybe we should just take the night off?” August suggested.
“She’s fine,” Leo grunted angrily from ahead.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Let’s all just go back to the hotel room. We need to sort ourselves out before we meet with Yasmin,” Atticus shot back.
I appreciated their concern, but I didn’t need it. It made me feel weak, like a child that needed to be coddled, and I didn’t have the energy to fight. “We need to do this,” I said. “I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“I agree with Christine.” Eva crossed her arms, and her brow wrinkled in concern.
“Are you sure?” Atticus asked.
“Look, I said I’m fine,” I snapped. “If I have to say it one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.”
Leo marched ahead of us, his face a mask of anguish. He kept his emotions tightly reined, so I had no idea what storm was raging inside of him. He had taken the news worse than the rest, and I worried he was replaying the moments we had shared and wondering why I hadn’t chosen him again. His voice was pure gravel as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Let’s get this done so Christine can rest. She’s been pushing herself too hard.”
“Fucking hell,” August cursed before following him inside.
Eva nudged me. “I don’t know how you put up with them. We should be a two woman team and just kill Theodore on our own.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I like you.”
“I’m likable,” she replied.
Atticus strode in front of us, leading us into the soup kitchen. My heart raced like an engine as I took in the dull-hued walls and shiny industrial kitchen. The long windows made the room feel airy, but there was still a lingering smell of fried food.
