Chapter 93 Harm My Baby

Chapter 93 Harm My Baby
Dmitry

Pregnant.

The word loops endlessly in my head as we make our way to the bonfire, drowning out every laugh, every conversation, every crackle of burning wood. She's pregnant, and the baby is mine. It has to be mine.

Did she know before she left? Was that why she'd walked away without looking back? Had she already known she was carrying my child and still decided I wasn't worth staying for?

The thought twists something ugly inside my chest, but another follows just as quickly, cutting even deeper.

She didn't leave because of a mistake.

God, listen to yourself.

It wasn't some harmless screw-up or drunken lapse in judgment. What I did hurt her in a way apologies never could, and pretending otherwise only made me sound pathetic. Even so, I couldn't stop wondering why she'd given up on us without a fight, why she'd looked at everything we'd built together and decided it wasn't enough to survive what I'd done.

Maybe she'd been done with me long before that night, and I'd just handed her the perfect excuse to leave.

"You're a killjoy tonight, Dima," Candace says with an exaggerated scoff as she drops into one of the empty chairs around the fire. She watches me for a second before shaking her head. "Seriously, you're sucking the life out of this bonfire."

I barely acknowledge her. My gaze keeps drifting through the crowd, searching for only one person, because no matter how hard I try to think about anything else, my mind always circles back to her.

I've been a mess. A complete fucking mess for days, and every thought in my head keeps leading back to her. At this point, I need a drink before I lose what's left of my sanity.

I catch Candace's attention from across the bonfire and point toward the beachside bar. She nods in understanding, already distracted by the conversation around her, and I leave without another word.

The guys had gone all out for what was supposed to be a simple midyear party. Strings of warm lights stretched between palm trees, the waves rolled lazily onto the shore a few meters away, and the open-air bar overlooked the water, making the entire place look more like a luxury vacation than a biking event.

None of it does a damn thing to improve my mood.

I slide onto one of the bar stools, already deciding on something strong, when the bartender's face lights up with recognition.

Fantastic.

The last thing I need tonight is someone who knows me and wants to catch up.

"Oh my goodness, Dmitry!" she squeals, her eyes widening as she leans across the counter. "It's been years. I didn't think you were back."

I force a polite smile as I study her face, searching for a name to match it. She looks familiar enough, probably one of the many girls who used to orbit around me before I left the country, but the years have blurred everyone together.

"Hey..." I drag the word out, rubbing the back of my neck as if I'm genuinely trying to remember. Tilting my head, I give her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I'm blanking on your name."

She laughs, though I catch the brief flicker of disappointment in her expression.

"I'm Amara," she says. "Have you seriously forgotten me?”

"Oh, Amara." Recognition finally settles on my face, though it's mostly because she just reminded me. "It's been a while, you know."

"It has." She props her elbows on the counter, studying me with an amused smile. "I also realized you've completely forgotten the promise you made to me."

My brows pull together.

Promise?

The confusion must be written all over my face because she bursts into laughter, throwing her head back.

"I'm joking!" she says between giggles. "Relax. You should've seen your face."

A quiet breath escapes me as the tension leaves my shoulders.

"You're quite funny," I say, the dryness in my voice making it obvious I don't mean it nearly as much as she does.

Her smile only widens. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't."

She laughs again before reaching for a glass. "So, what can I get you?"

I glance toward the ocean, letting my eyes follow the dark waves for a moment before answering.

"I want something strong enough to knock me out of reality," I mutter. "If you've got anything that can erase the last few days, I'll take a double.”

She offers me a small, sympathetic smile before giving a single nod. "I have just the drink for you."

Turning away, she reaches for a couple of bottles, splashing amber liquids into a shaker with practiced ease before adding something else I don't bother identifying. Ice rattles against the metal as she shakes it, the sharp sound blending with the music drifting over from the beach.

This is probably a terrible fucking idea.

Exactly the kind of idea I need right now.

"There you go." She pops her gum as she slides the glass across the polished counter.

I nod my thanks, wrap my fingers around the cold glass, and toss the drink back in one swallow. Fire tears down my throat, burning all the way into my stomach, and for a second I'm convinced I've lost the ability to speak. Instead of asking, I simply tap the counter and lift two fingers, silently requesting another.

As Amara turns to make it, my attention drifts across the crowd.

A flash of dark, familiar curls catches my eye.

My pulse stutters.

For one insane moment, I almost get off the stool and follow.

It can't be Gianna.

She's not—

"I don't think I can do this."

The words stop me cold.

I'd know that voice anywhere.

Every muscle in my body locks as I slowly turn toward the sound.

Gianna.

She's standing a short distance away, tucked securely in Braide's arms, her face buried against his chest as if he's the only thing keeping her together. My chest tightens painfully at the sight, but it's the glass in her hand that steals what little breath I have left.

She's drinking.

What the fuck?

How can she drink while pregnant? Did she harm my baby?

The realization crashes into me with enough force to make my vision blur.

Fucking hell.