Violet's POV
The air in my room felt thick enough to choke on.
I stood with my back still pressed against the wall, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. Mark's claws had left faint red lines on my arm where he had gripped me. The threat still echoed in my ears, I will gut you and rip that bastard out of your belly— raw, vicious, and terrifyingly sincere.
But I refused to let them see me crumble. I straightened slowly, lifting my chin, shoulders squared despite the tremor in my legs. My hand moved instinctively to rest over my still-flat stomach, a protective gesture I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. This child was mine before it was any of theirs, and I'd be damned before I let any of them harm it.
I looked at both of them, Mark breathing like a wounded animal ready to charge, Mateo standing between us with gold-flecked eyes wide with shock and worry, and spoke with every ounce of calm authority I had cultivated since the council meeting.
