Page 136 of Born for Lace

Dangerous.

He is to be dissolved on sight.

Pain.

There is a girl.

Her name is Dahlia.

She is an enemy of The Trade.

A thief.

She has a Shadow infant.

You need to take the infant.

Dissolve the girl.

ChapterForty-Four

Dahlia

For the past two days, I haven’t been home, and despite talking to him, Lagos hasn’t moved an inch. Not when I kiss his cheek or when I hold his hand.

I don’t want to leave him, but my heart yearns to hold my tiny assassin. We haven’t been away from each other this long, and due to the nature of the Shadow connection, Spero can’t be anywhere near Lagos.

Exhausted and aching with grief, I wander back to my little cabin on the other side of the community to bathe before I go to Lucy’s.

I am walking through the front door, focused on getting in and out quickly, when I hear the babbling of a baby coming from my room. He shouldn’t be here…

“Hello? Lucy?” I call out just as I enter, finding Tomar leaning over the cot, waving a stuffed animal in front of Spero.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Oh.” I stop, blinking at them. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” My eyes dart around, taking in the messy sheets and an unfamiliar bag on the floor.

Unease sweeps through me.

Tomar straightens, appearing confident in my personal space. “Robert told me to stay here until we have more answers about Lagos.”

I lift a brow. “No Xin De in the community, remember?”

“I think I’m the Xin De they want here just in case the other one wakes up and ruins things.” His choice of words find a mark in my stomach, further stirring my restless insides.

He waves at the bed. “I didn’t sleep in your bed if that’s what you thought. I slept on the foam mat. I presume it’s Spero’s playmat.”

Suspicious, I move over to scoop Spero up and cuddle him to my chest, inhaling his sweet, weird baby scent. “Hello, baby boy.” I jig him and twirl around, smiling for him. “I missed you. Did you miss, Mummy?” I lean in and rub my nose against his.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I lift my head to look at Tomar, startled by the conflict in his eyes and the way they pierce right through me. And I know what it means now. I’ve seen it in him before. The last time we were alone… He makes me wish I was still pretty-but-plain-easily-forgotten Dahlia.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

His fingers twitch at his sides, seeming to be uncomfortable. Stiff. Waiting. “You’re such a special girl. I watched you become a mother and now look at you… Even after it all, you’re so sweet, pure, loyal?—”

“Stop.” I turn to leave. I can’t do this. Every slither of emotional strength I have is quickly draining from me.

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