Divorced by the Devil Rider

CHAPTER 18 — The Red File

CHAPTER 18 — The Red File

The second line didn't just show up. It throbbed.

I stared until my eyes burned. The plastic felt cheap and greasy in my hand, shaking so hard I thought I’d drop it on the tile. One line was fine. One line was life as usual. Two lines? Two lines was a bullet to the head.

"No," I whispered.

The word tasted like copper.

I leaned over the sink, breathing in the smell of bleach and old pipes. My reflection looked like a stranger—skin grey, hair a mess, eyes wide and hollowed out. I looked like someone who had just lost everything. Maybe I had. All that work, all that running, just to end up trapped by a few cells and a night I couldn't forget.

I started counting. My brain felt sluggish, tripping over the dates.

Twenty-eight days since the warehouse. Twenty-four since we crashed into each other because the adrenaline was too loud and the silence was too scary.

I’d taken the pill. I’d washed it down with cheap tequila and told myself it was handled.

Clearly, the universe didn't care what I told myself.

Bzzzt.

The phone on the counter jumped. I didn't look at the screen. I knew the vibration. Kade. It was like he had a physical wire hooked into my nervous system—the second I started to drown, he was there to pull the rope.

I flipped the test face-down. Shoved it under a pile of damp towels, burying it like a secret that stayed dead. My heart wasn't beating; it was slamming against my ribs, trying to break out.

Bzzzt.

I swiped the screen. My thumb was numb.

"Yeah?"

"You sound like you’re dying," Kade’s voice rasped. Low. Gritty. Like he’d been smoking for three days straight.

"I’m just... I’m busy, Kade."

"You’re lying."

He said it like he was bored, but I heard the edge. He always knew when I was building a wall, even if he didn't know what I was hiding behind it.

"I'm downstairs," he said.

My lungs just stopped. "What? No. Don't come up. I’m—"

"I’m not asking, Lucia. There’s a black sedan at the corner. Tinted windows. They’ve been idling for twenty minutes. They aren't looking for a parking spot."

The cold from the pregnancy test finally hit my spine. "The Wraiths?"

"Most likely. Open the door."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The knock wasn't a polite request. It was a command.

I scrambled. I grabbed the test from under the towels and shoved it into the bottom vanity drawer, burying it under a stack of old magazines and half-empty shampoo bottles. I splashed cold water on my face—it didn't help—and pulled the door open.

Kade didn't wait for an invite. He pushed past me, bringing the smell of cold rain and expensive tobacco into my cramped hallway. He turned around and looked at me—really looked—and his eyes narrowed.

"You look like a ghost," he said, stepping into my space until I had to tilt my head back just to breathe.

"I didn't sleep much. The car... you're sure it’s them?"

"I'm sure you’re not staying here alone." He reached around me and clicked the deadbolt. The sound was so final it made my teeth ache. "Pack a bag. We’re going to my place."

"No." I backed up until my hip hit the kitchen table. "I’m not moving into your cage, Kade."

"Better my cage than a hole in the ground." He moved closer. His hand reached out like he was going to grab my arm, then he stopped, his fingers just an inch from my skin. "You're vibrating, Lucia. Talk to me."

"I'm just..." I looked at his hand. Then his face.

The truth was right there. It was heavy and hot and I wanted to scream it just to see the look on his face. Kade, I’m pregnant. Kade, you’re never going to let me go now.

I swallowed it down.

"I'm just tired of you showing up and deciding my life for me," I snapped.

His jaw flexed. "Someone has to. You’re too busy trying to get killed."

"I can—"

Ping.

The notification sound was too loud. It felt like a physical slap.

I reached for the phone, but Kade was faster. He snatched it off the table before I could even blink.

It wasn't a text. It was an image from an unknown number.

My stomach turned over. I felt the blood leave my head.

The photo was of a medical file. My name, Lucia Moretti, was typed in bold at the top. Underneath, a single word was circled in red: POSITIVE. And then the text below it: He can’t protect a secret he doesn’t know. But we’re watching both of you.

Kade’s fingers tightened on the phone until I thought the screen would crack.

He didn't look at the phone anymore. He looked at me.

The air in the room didn't "die"—it just felt like it disappeared. Kade’s expression didn't change, but his eyes... they went flat. Cold. Like he was looking at a problem he was already planning to solve with a gun.

"Lucia," he said. His voice was a whisper, but it was louder than the shouting.

I couldn't move. I just felt my hand move, almost on its own, and rest on my stomach.

Kade’s eyes followed my hand. His whole posture shifted—he got still. Too still.

"You were going to hide this," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I... I just found out ten minutes ago, Kade. I didn't even—"

"How long?"

"Does it even matter now?" I tried to sound angry, but my voice broke. I was just a girl in a shitty apartment, and the world was closing in.

He stepped into me, his chest hitting my shoulders, pinning me against the table. He didn't grab me, but I couldn't have moved if I tried.

"It matters," he growled. "Because they know. Which means you’re not just a girl they want to scare anymore. You’re the only thing they can use against me."

He leaned down until his forehead almost touched mine. I could see the lines of tension around his mouth.

"Who else?" he demanded. "Who else knows you’re carrying my kid?"

I shook my head, tears finally starting to burn my eyes. "Nobody. I haven't even seen a doctor. I don't know how they got that."

"Then they’re already inside," he muttered. He grabbed my bag from the chair and threw it at me. "Pack. Now. We’re leaving."

"Kade—"

"There is no 'no,' Lucia. Not anymore." He looked at me, and for the first time, I didn't see the man I’d spent nights with. I saw the man people were terrified of. "You’re mine. And so is that baby. If you won't stay safe for yourself, you'll do it because I’m not giving you a choice."

He turned toward the door, checking the hallway through the peephole, his hand resting on the grip of his piece.

"Because if they so much as breathe on you," he said, his voice deathly quiet, "I’ll make sure they don't have enough left of them to bury."