"Breathe kitten. Breathe." The low timber voice caressed April's ear as his arms gently wound around her waist, avoiding the baby bump.
But she didn't hear what he said. Each ragged inhale sent a violent tremor through her body, her chest heaving with frantic effort. What's going on? Cherry knows. She knows? How? Why? When!?
"Breathe." Normally, the commanding voice would have made her stomach flutter, but today it sent her thoughts spiraling and her limbs grew heavy as she gasped for air.
Her choke creased Mark's forehead, a storm brewing in those dark, lake-like eyes. His hand traveled up her body until it grasped her throat, making her arch her head back. As those misty green eyes met his, he captured her lips, breathing the air back into her lungs.
The rough gasps that had previously filled the area shifted into soft cries. Unable to take it anymore, April grasped the hand on her throat, and she swore she heard the dissatisfied click of a tongue when their lips disconnected.
"I have to go." She breathed with one toe already touching the ground. She paused the movie they were watching before Cherry's call. "Don't you dare finish this without me."
"You're not going anywhere." He pulled her back into his embrace.
"Let me go!"
He tightened his grip. "Do you want to see me go crazy?"
"You're already crazy! Didn't you hear what Cherry said? She knows about us. She. Knows. Let me go already—" she paused mid-struggle and looked at Mark. The lack of surprise on his face, the nonchalant look. She reeled from the realization.
"You knew." It was not a question, but a confirmation.
He hummed, and she almost smacked him. "I will not ask why you didn't tell me. But what are you not telling me yet?"
He gauged her reaction for a second and then relented with a heavy sigh. "Brandon is the same as me."
"…What?"
"And the reason your friend knows about us is that Brandon blew his cover and told her about us to most likely soften the blow." He sneered, directing it at Brandon, "Coward."
April's face turned ashen, and she tapped at Brandon's arms around her waist; a sign to let her go. "I need to see her."
He shook his head. "That's not possible."
"Why!?" she now thrashed her legs around.
"I swear to everything dead if you don't calm your sweet cheeks down—breathe, damn it!"
"Okay, okay." Understanding her struggles was pointless; she finally stopped, pushing away the messy, falling strands of hair that obscured her vision. "I'm calm, so tell me why I can't go see my friend or, even better yet, save her?"
"He and I have a mutual agreement. I don't bother him, and he won't bother me. You going there and trying to save your friend is enabling a bloodbath."
The children in her belly kicked her ribs, prompting her to take a gulp of air, soothing her nerves, and exhale. After a few more deep breaths, she felt a semblance of calm return to her. Stroking her belly, she mused in a low voice teetering on the border of rage, "Are you telling me to leave my friend to a bloody killer?"
"Sweetheart, I'm a killer and in my arms you're a pampered princess. He's like me, so your friend will just live as well. Not as well as you, of course, but she will not lack for anything."
With a huff, she sank back into his arms. "You're really trying your best to change my mind, aren't you?"
"Is it working?"
She sighed, "Not really."
"I promise you I'll save your friend if she's truly in danger."
She gave him a sidelong glare; distrust dripping out of it.
Putting his hand up in surrender, he used the other to cross over his heart. "I swear."
The motion made her scoff. "You're not religious, asshole."