HIS BRUTAL PROMISE

Only one person who could help her now.

Mateo Cruz.

And this time he wasn’t walking away.

Her throat burned as she pushed forward, her hand braced low on her stomach as another wave of pain rolled through her, determined to get to help tonight.

“You’re okay,” she whispered. “We’re okay.”

Even if she wasn’t entirely sure if she was trying to convince her baby … or herself.

An Uber ride and a six-block walk later, and the house came into view like something unreal. Solid. Secure.

Dani stopped at the edge of the drive, her breath uneven now, her body trembling with the effort it had taken to get here.

Her lips pressed together, something dry and sharp flickering through her.

“Please don’t be an asshole,” she muttered.

Then she walked forward.

The door opened before she could knock a second time.

The man standing there filled the space immediately—tall, solid, his presence controlled in a way that spoke of training, experience, danger. His gaze moved over her quickly, efficiently, landing on her stomach for half a second before returning to her face.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

She let out a slow breath, too tired to soften the edge in her voice.

“Yeah,” she said. “You can start by not shutting the door in my face.”

His brow lifted slightly.

“Mateo Cruz,” she added. “I need to see him.”

Something shifted behind his eyes—interest, maybe recognition of the name coming from her mouth—but he didn’t move immediately. “Fuck.”

Dani tilted her head, exhaustion bleeding into dry sarcasm.

“I’m not leaving,” she said. “So, unless you want me collapsing out here and explaining that to him later, I suggest you let me in.”

A beat.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Dominic,” he said.

“Dani.”

His gaze dropped once more to her stomach, sharper this time.

Then he stepped aside. “Come in, Dani.”

She wasn’t walking into this weak.

Not in front of him.

She pushed past Dominic and walked in like she owned the place.

Every step into that house felt like walking through water, her body heavy, her balance just a fraction off, but she forced herself forward anyway. Because if she stopped now—if she hesitated—she wasn’t sure she’d make it the rest of the way.

And she had to make it.

It was him. The man from the mountains. The man who had looked at her like she mattered. The man who had walked away without a word.

She walked straight up to him, closing the distance because if she didn’t—if she gave herself space to think, to feel—she might break before she got the words out.

Mateo blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Uh … hello?”

Her breath was already uneven, her body screaming at her to sit, to stop, to give in—but she didn’t. “You.”

Her voice came out rougher than she intended, but steady enough to hold.

Mateo pointed at himself, confusion flickering across his face. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

The room had gone quiet.

Dani could feel it—the shift, the attention, the weight of eyes turning toward her—but she didn’t look at anyone else. Didn’t care about anyone else.

“Can I help you?” Mateo asked carefully.

Something inside her snapped.

“Oh, you already did,” she shot back, the words edged sharp enough to cut. “About eight months ago.”

He frowned.

And for a second—just a second—she thought maybe—

“Pretty sure I would remember that.”

That sting.

Her hand came up before she even thought about it, fingers pressing hard against the curve of her stomach as she jabbed toward it. “This baby is yours.”

Mateo stared at her.

Then—he laughed.

The sound hit her like a slap.

“No way,” he said. “We would have had to—”

He stopped. And something ugly and tired and dangerously close to hysterical twisted in her chest.

“Yes,” she said slowly, her voice dropping into something almost calm. “That is typically how it works.”

“But I don’t even know you,” he protested.

That did it.

“Oh, good,” she said, her voice rising as she jabbed a finger at him again. “We’re doing the confused man routine. Fantastic. Let me help you.”

She could feel the room now—people watching, listening—but she didn’t stop.

“You don’t remember me?” she continued. “Fine. That doesn’t magically make biology stop working. People get drugged. People get manipulated. People wake up in places they didn’t choose to be in with things already done to them.”

Her eyes flashed as she leaned in just enough to make sure he heard every word.

“And in case your education failed you somewhere along the way—there are also clinics, laboratories, needles, and very determined people who can make a baby happen without you lighting candles and writing poetry first.”

She threw her hands up, the movement sharp, frustrated, exhausted.

“So no, Mateo, you don’t have to remember me for this to be possible.”

Silence.

Then—somewhere behind her—a choked sound. People spoke, but she ignored them. The edges of her vision were turning black. Mateo looked around the room like he was waiting for someone—anyone—to step in and save him from this.

“I did not do anything!” he protested.

Something sharp and almost feral twisted in her chest.

“That is what they all say,” Dani added mildly. “But the proof, as they say, is in my freaking belly!”

Mateo pointed at her. “I have literally never seen this person before in my life!”

That almost broke her.

Almost.

Because for him, it was confusion.

For her, it was everything.

“That is not getting less suspicious the more you say it,” a man said as the black in her vision began closing in on her.

Mateo looked at him. “I—”

Her hand pressed harder into her stomach as another wave of pain rolled through her, sharper now, stealing the edge of her breath.

Her vision blurred, her body finally catching up to everything she had pushed it through—the escape, the pain, the exhaustion, the fear.

Mateo moved.

She didn’t see it happen.

Just felt it.

His hands on her.

Strong.

Steady.

Then everything went black.