The second my strength came back I asked about Candace and felt stronger for hearing she woke up and was out of the coma.
After a morning of tests and plans set in place, Tristan brought me back home to my house which is free of guards.
Sacha is in a bad way with a few broken bones so he’ll be in the hospital for another week or so. Since I never really classed him as a guard, but more like a guardian angel I will always welcome him wherever I go.
We’ve just stepped inside and the place feels strange.
Now that I’m free of my father the house feels like I can be free of it too.
I sit on the sofa and look around at everything in the house. None of it feels like mine. I’ve lived here since I started college. That’s just a little over four years ago. Everything in here was handpicked for me and was already decorated.
From the pictures on the wall to the flowers in the vase, which my father insisted on being dahlia’s, my mother’s favorites. In his evil mind I’m sure he was trying to use something as simple as that as a reminder of his power over me.
I haven’t really thought about him at all. I saw Tristan kill him and maybe I’m that messed up in the head that I felt that nothingness again. Nothing one way or the other. not sad because he’s just been killed, and not happy because justice has been served.
I think now that I understand how people feel when they say justice can never fully be served. It can’t. Whatever is done to alleviate the wrong, is only for the people who feel wronged. The people left behind in the aftermath. People like me and Tristan.
Tristan sits opposite me so we face each other and we have that soulful moment where I feel like he knows what I’m thinking.
I know it’s time to have a serious talk. That serious talk that will let us know where we stand, and what’s happening next.
I know he knows I’m pregnant.
We just haven’t spoken about it yet.
In my weakened state he refused to leave my side when we got to the hospital, not even when the doctors said they wanted to talk to me in private. I knew what they were going to tell me and since I didn’t want him to go either I asked for him to stay.
I watched him when the doctors were talking to me about it, and telling me I was two weeks along. Tristan didn’t seem surprised so I guessed he already knew when he rescued me. I don’t know when he knew but that’s not important.
He gives me a soft smile as he looks at me and I take one of the pillows to hug to my chest.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Free,” I answer. That would probably sound strange to anyone else, but I know he gets it. “I can look around and not have to worry about watching my back, I can go to the stores without having someone constantly with me, I can work and not have to explain why I have a bodyguard, and I can stay out all day in the sun if I want. I feel free to be Isabella.”
“Not Isabella Viggo?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want that name. I can’t change the blood that flows through my veins but I can change my name. I lived as Isabella Baker for so long that it hardly feel like I’d be doing anything different. I want to be someone else and not Baker either. My father gave me that name and I hated it as much as Viggo.”
He nods understanding, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes.
“How do you feel? You got to do what you wanted.”
“I feel like I can lay my ghost to rest, but that’s as far as it goes. Your father was just one person of many and he made it sound like I had my work cut out for me.”
I don’t doubt that for one moment. “The Circle of Shadows are a big group. The people who were there were senior so you took down a good chunk, more than enough to weaken them, especially with my father gone. But it won’t eradicate them. if you’re a member you were trained to be as good as the leader. They’ll only gather and reform.”
“Yeah… I figured as much. It’s all pieces of the puzzle, but let’s take this as a massive win.” He smiles. “There are more important things to talk about.”
“Yes.” Heat races my skin. I have no idea what he’s going to say about the baby. All he’s done is take care of me and treat me like I should be in a glass ball. That’s just been since yesterday.
“Sacha told me,” he states. “When we got to the house I saw him first and he told me you’re pregnant and what your father was going to do to you.”
I feel like I should apologize in some way because it was me who told him I’d had the injection and didn’t remember when it ran out. That first time we were together we didn’t even ask questions.
“I’m sorry, my inject—”
“No. Don’t apologize. You don’t have to. I would never want you to.” He reaches for my hands and covers them with his. “Isabella, my words is dark because of who I am. It’s always going to be that way but I promise you if you stay with me and give me a chance, I’ll make sure there will always be light wherever we go.”
I smile at that and a swirl of joy courses through me. “That sounds amazing. That sounds like a dream.”
“Then be with me. Be mine.”
“Yes…”
He pulls me on to his lap and we fall into a kiss that speaks of what’s to come.
As we kiss I realize I don’t need to know what will happen next.
As long as I’m with him I’ll be free. Free to live, be happy. And, in love.