Chapter 89 Eighty Nine
DANIKA
The lights are dim, the only real glow coming from the screen beside the bed. I lie back against the thin pillow, my shirt pushed up, cool gel spread across my stomach. The sonographer moves the wand gently, her features calm. And that only worsens my anxiety. I try to breathe through my nose and stay relaxed. But I'm so scared.
Kaziel is beside me, unmoving. His hand is wrapped around mine, palm to palm. And his fingers are locked so tightly around mine. I need that pressure. I need proof he's here.
He hasn't blinked in a while.
I can feel the fear rolling off him in waves even in the silence. He's barely even breathing, shadows under his eyes. My chest aches at the sight of him.
‘Please,’ I pray silently. ‘Please.’
The sonographer's lips curl into a smile.
"There you are," she says gently.
My heart skips a beat.
She turns the screen slightly, and for a moment I don't understand what I'm looking at. But then I see it. A tiny, frantic flutter among the shadows. A sob rips out of me before I can stop it, my free hand flying to my mouth. Tears blur everything.
"Oh my goodness," I whisper.
Kaziel gasps softly. His grip on my hand tightens, then it trembles. He bows his head, his forehead pressing against our joined hands.
"The baby is fine," the woman utters softly. "The heartbeat is strong. Everything looks good."
Fine.
The word echoes in my mind.
'Fine' means alive. 'Fine' means 'still here'. 'Fine' means I didn't lose them.
"They're okay," I choke out. "Kaz... they're okay."
He nods, but he can't speak. A single tear rolls down his cheek and lands on my knuckles.
The sonographer wipes away the gel carefully. "What you experienced earlier were stress-related cramps. Your body has been under immense pressure."
Kaziel stiffens instantly, panic flashing in his eyes as they dart to my face.
"But," she adds quickly, "the baby is unharmed. You'll need rest. Real rest. Less stress, less strain."
"I'll do anything," he replies immediately. "Anything."
I turn my head towards him, my heart swelling. "You already are," I whisper. Just by being by my side, Kaz.
He shakes his head once, as though he doesn't believe that's enough.
The question I've always wanted to ask presses against my chest. I swallow hard, my voice trembling when I speak. "How... how far along am I?"
The woman checks the screen again, then looks back at me with a smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"About twelve weeks."
I let out a shaky breath. "Twelve?"
She nods.
Three months. Holy shit.
For three months, this tiny life has been growing inside me. Through fear. Through danger. Through everything we didn't know. Holding on quietly even while our world threatened to fall apart.
My tears flow freely now. I press my hand to my stomach, overwhelmed by our little miracle.
Kaziel stares at the screen like he's witnessing something sacred.
"Twelve weeks," he murmurs, awe slipping through his words. His hand slides from mine to my belly.
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, the truth settling deep in my bones.
Our baby is alive.
We're going to be okay.
...
The drive home is quiet, but not peaceful. Kaziel's hands are steady on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road, yet something about him feels... wrong. There's a tight tension in his shoulders and a deep crease between his brows. Even the dark smudges under his eyes seem darker.
I watch him for a moment, then I murmur under my breath, "You're stressed."
His jaw flexes. "I'm fine."
I huff softly. "You're a terrible liar."
That earns me the faintest twitch of his mouth, but it fades just as quickly.
After a moment, he finally gives me a response: "The eclipse is in three days."
My chest tightens. "That's when the ritual is scheduled."
"Yes." His voice is strained. "And you're not supposed to be stressed. Not after today."
I turn slightly towards him. "You can't protect me from the truth. You know that."
His fingers flex against the wheel. "I know."
Silence settles between us before I ask the question that's been weighing down on my chest. "How does the vessel actually break the curse?"
He glances at me. "They hum."
I blink. "Hum?"
"A song," he corrects gently. "It’s not sung with the throat, but with power. It's... harmonic and supernatural. It resonates across realms."
I swallow hard. "And the purpose of the song?"
"It draws the Hollow out," he says. "The frequency opens a path to the underworld realm. That's where it belongs. Once it's released there, the curse lifts."
My fingers curl into my lap. "Released how?"
His shoulders rise and fall with a slow breath. "The vessel escorts it."
I gulp.
"Into the underworld," he continues softly. "The vessel guides it through the passage opened by the song."
My pulse pounds in my ears. "And then the vessel comes back."
He doesn't answer right away.
When he does, his voice is laced with unease. "That's the intent."
I look down at my stomach, thinking about the life growing there and everything that is suddenly at stake. Three days. An eclipse. A song strong enough to pull an ancient horror across realms.
"Kaziel," I whisper.
His hand leaves the wheel long enough to cover mine, squeezing firmly. "You are not doing this alone," he says. "And I won't let the ritual hurt you or our baby."
I nod, even as unease coils tight in my chest.
The rest of the drive home is silent and full of unspoken words. Once we get home, Kaziel carries me right out of the car. I squeal in surprise.
"Put me down! I can walk!" I giggle, gripping his shoulders.
Kaziel doesn't even break stride. "Doctor's orders," he drones. "You need rest."
"I don't remember her asking you to carry me like a sack of cargo."
"You're misquoting," he replies. "She definitely implied it."
I roll my eyes, but I don't fight him. I let my head fall against his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart as he carries me inside and straight upstairs.
Kaziel lowers me onto the bed with infuriating care, as if I might break into pieces if he moves too fast.
"Okay," I say, already settling into the pillows. "I need an extra blanket."
He turns instantly. "Anything else?"
"Ice cream."
"Of course."
"And turn the TV on. Something boring. Nature documentary. Or that cooking show where no one actually yells."
He nods seriously, already moving. "Anything else?"
"A towel," I add. "And... my plushie."
That finally makes him glance back at me, one brow lifting. "The wolf one?"
"Yes," I say, unapologetic. "He's emotional support."
He exhales a soft laugh. "I'll be right back."
True to his word, he returns like a man on a mission with an extra blanket tucked under one arm, an ice cream bowl and spoon balanced expertly, a plushie dangling from his fingers, and a towel folded neatly over his shoulder. He sets everything up before I can even thank him, fussing until I'm cocooned, fed, and distracted by the low murmur of the TV.
Only then do I notice it again.
The way he rolls his shoulders, like they ache. It's the actual reason I asked for the towel.
"Kaz," I say gently.
He turns. "Yes, dove?"
"Can you bring me your body oil?"
His brows arch, surprise flashing across his face. "My... oil?"
"Yes."
A smile tugs at his lips. "Alright."
While he's gone, I dig into my ice cream, watching the screen without really seeing it. By the time he returns, bottle in hand, I've made up my mind.
I pat the space beside me on the bed. "Take off your shirt."
His smile deepens. "Bossy."
"It's the only way to deal with your stubborn ass."
He chuckles and peels the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. The sight of him still makes my breath hitch. Those broad shoulders, strong back, tight waist and skin marked with hidden scars under tats. But right now, all I see is tension.
"Lie down," I tell him, nodding to the towel I've spread out.
He obeys, settling onto his stomach with a soft exhale. I straddle his lower back carefully, unscrewing the bottle and warming the oil between my palms before pouring it slowly along his spine.
He releases a sigh.
I smile to myself and press my hands into his shoulders, massaging gently at first, then firmer when I feel how hard the muscles are beneath my palms.
"You're a mess," I mumble, surprised. "You're completely knotted up."
"I've had a stressful day," he replies, his hair falling over his face when he moves his head.
I work the tension out inch by inch, my thumbs circling while my palms smoothen. His breathing deepens, his body slowly yielding beneath my touch.
"That feels... incredible," he groans, his forehead pressing into the towel. "Don't stop."
"I won't," I promise softly.
It doesn't take long before he drifts off to sleep. I lean in to move his hair away from his face, pressing a kiss to his temple. He looks so stunning even in sleep. I could stare at him all day and never get tired. Just then, I hear a knock on a door. A frown creases my brow. Cautiously, I trace the sound all the way to the front door. Uneasy about it, I move over to the monitor. My eyes bulge at the sight of the familiar face.
"Eve?" I gasp.
How the hell is she here?
I blink, but then she’s gone. What the—