Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
"Allegra, it's not like that," I try to explain, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. "We didn't plan for this to happen. It just... did."
But Allegra isn't listening.
Her eyes are locked on her father, blazing with fury and betrayal.
I can see the hurt beneath her anger, and it breaks my heart.
This isn't how I wanted things to go, not at all.
"You fake whore!" Allegra snarls, her words slicing through me like a knife.
I recoil, stunned by the venom in her voice.
My best friend, the girl I've shared so much with, is looking at me like I'm her worst enemy.
The sting of her words brings tears to my eyes, but I blink them back furiously.
Viper's reaction is immediate.
He stands up, his tall frame imposing as he faces his daughter.
The muscles in his tattooed arms flex, a physical manifestation of his restraint.
"Apologize," he demands, his voice low and dangerous. "Now. Iris has been through more than enough over the last few days. You have no right to speak to her like that."
I want to shrink into the hospital bed, to disappear from this nightmare of a situation.
But I force myself to sit up straighter, meeting Allegra's gaze.
I won't let her see how much her words have hurt me.
Allegra's lip curls in disgust. "Go fuck yourselves," she spits out.
Her eyes dart between us, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "Maybe I'll go fuck your ex since you're fucking my dad."
My breath catches in my throat.
The thought of Allegra with Lyon makes me feel sick, and not just because of our history.
To my surprise, Viper lets out a bark of laughter. "That'll be hard to do since I shot apart his dick," he says, his tone casual as if he's discussing the weather. "He's a monk now."
My eyes widen in shock.
I stare at Viper, trying to process what he just said.
"Are you serious?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Deadly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Viper
The fireplace crackles, casting dancing shadows across Iris's face as she curls up next to me on the couch.
The warm glow softens her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek and the shine in her dark eyes.
I take a sip of hot chocolate, savoring the rich sweetness on my tongue.
It's a small luxury, but one I never thought I'd experience again during those long years behind bars.
"This is nice," Iris murmurs, her head resting against my shoulder.
Her straight black hair falls like a curtain, tickling my arm. "I can't remember the last time I actually enjoyed Christmas Eve."
I wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer.
The scent of her shampoo mingles with the aroma of chocolate and pine from the tree in the corner. "Me neither, sweetheart. Fifteen Christmases in a cell kinda takes the magic out of it."
She looks up at me, concern flickering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."
I shake my head, offering her a reassuring smile. "You didn't. Being here with you, it's making new memories. Better ones."
Iris relaxes against me, taking another sip from her mug.
The fire pops and hisses, sending sparks dancing up the chimney.
"I still can't believe how much my life has changed in the past few months," Iris says softly. "If someone had told me back when I was working at Mysterious Ink that I'd be spending Christmas with you, pregnant with your child, I would've laughed in their face."
I chuckle, the sound rumbling in my chest. "Life's funny that way. If someone had told me I'd be out of prison and curled up with a gorgeous tattooed goddess, I would've told them to lay off whatever they were smoking."
Iris giggles, the sound light and musical.
It makes my heart swell to hear her laugh.
After everything she's been through, she deserves some happiness.
"Goddess, huh?" she teases, arching an eyebrow at me. "I think the hot chocolate's going to your head, Viper."
I set my mug down on the coffee table, freeing up my hand to trace the intricate tattoos that wind their way up her arm. "Nah, just stating facts. You're a work of art, Iris. Inside and out."
A slight blush colors her cheeks, visible even in the dim firelight.
It's endearing how she can go from confident stripper to shy girl in the blink of an eye.
I love both sides of her equally.
"You're not so bad yourself," she murmurs, running her fingers along the tattoos that cover my bicep. "Although I think you might be more of a god of war than anything else."
I flex playfully, earning another giggle from her. "Hey, I can be nurturing too. Look at me, all domestic with my hot chocolate and Christmas tree."
Iris snorts, nearly choking on her drink. "Oh yes, very domestic. I'm sure all the guys you used to run with would be very impressed."
For a moment, my mind flashes to those old days—the violence, the constant looking over my shoulder, the thrill of power.