Page 64 of Beyond Enemy Vows
I fall asleep still holding the phone in both hands like it might keep me from coming apart, knowing tomorrow is going to be one of the most difficult days of my life.
My phone ringsfrom the guard house at 10:07 a.m. She's here.
I've been pacing since nine, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing leggings and a white v-neck T-shirt. My heart is racing like I've run a marathon.
Her car pulls up around the side of the Kastaris compound, outside my house on the property.
I can't even wait until she's at the door. I fling it open and watch her walk up.
Keira barrels inside like she owns it. Her fiery red hair is straight, and her green eyes are bright with the kind of fight she's always ready to bring to the world.
She doesn't even set her things down before pulling me into a hug. "Okay," she says, holding me tight, "I'm here. Now, what'swrong? Do I have to kill someone? Because I will. You know I will."
I can't help but laugh through my tears at her immediate willingness to commit murder on my behalf. It's not even a joke. She would absolutely do it.
"I'm late," I say, pulling back to look at her. "Two weeks. I've been on the pill, but with all the sneaking around with Niko, I think I might've missed one. Or took it too late. I don't know, Keira. I'm scared."
Keira's face doesn't change, doesn't register shock or judgment. She just nods, hands still steady on my shoulders.
"Have you taken a test?" she asks.
I shake my head. "I was too scared to buy one. It might be too early for one of those stick tests anyway, right?"
She shrugs. "Sometimes. But a doctor will tell you for sure. We're doing this today."
"Today?" I ask, my voice high from the nerves. "I don't even know if?—"
"Today," she repeats firmly. "We're confirming it. No more stalling." She squeezes my arm. "Where's the most discreet doctor you've got?"
My mind goes through options. My family has connections everywhere, which is both a blessing and a curse. I need someone who won't immediately call Ares or any of my brothers for that matter.
"Dr. Vina," I say suddenly. "She has a private practice downtown. She's treated some girls I know when they needed care without questions."
Keira nods. "Okay, let's call her."
The waitingroom is all muted pinks and soft lighting, and the air smells faintly of antiseptic and whatever else that smell is when you know you're in a doctor's office.
A receptionist with perfectly manicured nails takes my information without looking up. Of course, I don't use my real name, and I pay cash.
Keira sits beside me, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing her foot impatiently.
Fifteen minutes later, they call the name I gave, and Keira's on her feet before I am, her nervousness showing through her cracks.
Dr. Vina is a small woman with kind eyes and a warm demeanor. She asks all the routine questions as simply as one asks someone what they'll have for dinner: date of last period, sexual activity, any symptoms, changes in appetite or mood, and if I'm taking birth control.
I answer mechanically, as if my answers are coming from someone else.
"We'll do a blood test for accuracy," she says. "It's more sensitive than urine tests."
She leaves, and another nurse comes in. This woman looks to be about my same age. She smiles as she ties a rubber tourniquet around my arm. I watch as she dabs the area with a cool alcohol swab.
"Okay, you'll feel just a little pinch," she says.
The needle slides in and I watch the dark red vial fill, my stomach churning. My blood, carrying the truth I'm too afraid to face.
"It won't take long," the nurse says, labeling the vial. "Please wait out by reception, and we'll call you when we have results."
Back in the waiting room, Keira sits close enough that our shoulders touch. Her leg is still bouncing, her energy like a live wire.
