Page 86 of Feral King

It’s sudden and panicked, only half formed in my mind, but it’s there and it’s urgent. I can’t stay here in this hospital, in his world, in his orbit. I have to go. Every day I spend around Julian is a day closer to the next bullet, and the next one might not miss me.

It’s not just me anymore. There’s someone else in the equation now, someone else at risk.

I look around the room and listen for any noise outside the door. Then I gently pull the pulse ox clip off my finger before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My midnight-blue dress is draped over the chair in the corner. I slip out of the hospital gown and pull it on. Next, I slip into my shoes before grabbing my handbag from where it rests on the counter.

I quietly slip out into the hallway. My dress isn’t exactly stealth-friendly, but thankfully there’s barely anyone around. I know Julian is in the hospital somewhere. He’s probably with Ethan, planning his next move in a war that threatens to consume not just me, but the baby that I now carry.

Baby. The word is still too surreal, too strange to stay in my mind for long. I push it all aside and head down the hallway.

As I walk, I consider what I’m doing. I’m not sure it’s the right decision. I just know that I need space to think before I tell Julian what’s going on, before he starts making plans to protect me in a way that feels like prison.

I hurry down the hall to the elevator. The janitor does a double-take—no doubt a woman in a ball gown wasn’t what he’d expected to see. But he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t ask any questions.

I press the button, my heart pounding.

Julian is standing inside when the doors open. His expression is a blend of rage and sadness all at once.

He looks at me, his jaw working. He realizes what’s going on.

“Where are you going?”

“Julian—”

“Where. Are. You. Going.”

The elevator doors start to close but he puts his arm out, causing them to bounce back open. He steps into the hallway, the space between us shrinking into something suffocating and electric all at once.

“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question but a raw, clear assessment. “The doctors aren’t finished with you. But here you are, barefoot, carrying your shoes, ready to sneak out of the hospital without telling me.”

“I need?—“

“Youneedto tell me what’s happening. Right now.”

I place my hand over my stomach. It’s a totally involuntary gesture, a protectiveness that I know is only going to grow as the pregnancy moves along. He watches me, watches where my hand comes to a rest.

Something crosses his face. Does he suspect?

“We need to talk,” I say. “Somewhere private.”

He looks at my face before glancing back to my hand on my stomach.

He nods. “My car is downstairs. Let’s go.”

We don’t say a single word on the way to the car or on the way home.

CHAPTER 32

LYRA

“Sit down.”

“Stop telling me to sit down, Julian. I’m not a dog or one of your soldiers or whatever the hell it is you call them. And I’m not going to?—”

He raises a brow. I hate how he can so easily silence me with just a single expression.

“You were barefoot in a ball gown, trying to sneak out of the hospital. And do what? Run off into the night? Take a Greyhound to Louisiana? I doubt you’d even thought that far. You don’t get to lecture me on what’s reasonable right now.”

I’m standing in the middle of his living room, my midnight-blue dress now rumpled, shoes still in hand and a secret in my belly—a secret that’s about to change everything. A secret that I can’t keep for much longer, even though I only just learned about it myself.