Chapter 6

I pressed myself harder against the wall, trying to create even the slightest distance between us. But he only pressed closer, his hard body trapping mine as if he could crush my slender frame with a snap of his fingers.

He had never done this before. Usually, after he was done using me, he would pull away immediately—looking at me with disgust.

The noise of the partying crowd in the bar clashed sharply with the narrow, dark, deserted corridor. I couldn’t scream. No one would hear me.

I turned my head away as he leaned closer, afraid he might try to kiss me. He had never kissed me before. It had always been just sex—cold, meaningless, done to save his own skin.

His large hands wrapped around my elbows, pinning them against the wall.

“Calista, do you know exactly what you’re doing?” His calm voice masked the anger beneath it. He wasn’t shouting. He was furious—but controlled. “Where’s my son?”

He squeezed my elbows—not painfully, but firmly—his lips hovering near my ear.

His breath brushed against my skin, warm and steady. Goosebumps rose along my neck. A shiver ran down my spine.

Damn. I shouldn’t be reacting like this.

“Move away from me—”

“Have you even thought about what you’re wearing?” he interrupted smoothly. “It’s natural for me to approach you dressed like that. And besides, we’re in a bar, not a church.”

His voice wasn’t as harsh as before, but the irritation was there—contained, simmering.

Where was the Lazarus who used to glare at me and yank my hair without hesitation?

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, still refusing to meet his eyes. “That I got your attention?”

I tried to adjust my position, but he released my elbows first and stepped back.

“You’ve had my attention since you have my son.”

Even here, in the middle of a bar, we were talking business. He sounded professional. Formal. Strict.

I straightened. “Excuse me? Your son? He’s mine, Lazarus. Mine.”

“I want to live with my child, Calista.”

Instead of answering, he handed me his phone.

Reluctantly, I took it. The faint glow illuminated my face. No password. No pin.

I opened the dialer and typed Irithel’s number, putting the call on speaker so he could hear.

After three rings, she answered.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“It’s me, Rith.”

“Cal! I thought it was someone else! I read your text—”

“Is that Momma? Where is, Mom-ma?”

My chest tightened at the sound of my son’s voice. He sounded like he had just stopped crying. I could still hear the small sobs.

“Yes, baby boy,” Irithel soothed gently. “Mommy will talk to you. Don’t cry.”

I glanced at Lazarus. He remained serious. Unmoved.

“Irithel—”

“I’m about to cry here, Cal! I don’t know how to comfort him! Why is it so noisy there? Are you in a bar?”

“I’ll explain next time. For now…” My throat tightened. “Watch over Luzon. Don’t let anyone take him.”

I ended the call and held the phone out to Lazarus.

He didn’t take it.

Instead, he grabbed my arm and dragged me through the corridor.

The music grew louder as we stepped back into the main area of the club. Smoke filled the air. Flashing lights hurt my eyes. Girls ground against strangers. Couples kissed openly. No one paid attention to us.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, bitch!” a girl snapped after I accidentally bumped into her while being dragged.

Outside, the night air hit my face, cool and heavy. Dark clouds covered the sky, threatening rain.

“Lazarus, let go of me!” I tried to dig my heels into the pavement, but he was too strong. “You’ve done enough!”

People turned to stare.

For the second time that night, he pinned me—this time against the door of his sleek black luxury car that screamed wealth and power.

“One last chance, Calista. Call your friend.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

Like ocean waves before a storm—quiet but capable of drowning you.

My hands trembled slightly as I opened his phone again. It was almost eleven.

Was Zon still crying? Was he still looking for me?

I swallowed hard and dialed.

“Cal! Your baby boy is still looking for you—”

“Irithel…” I closed my eyes. “Can you bring Zon here? I’ll text you the address.”

Before she could answer, Lazarus snatched the phone and ended the call.

He opened the passenger door and pushed me inside.

The ride was silent. Cold air filled the car, but I barely felt it. My thoughts were with my son.

Now I sat on a soft white bed in one of Lazarus’ condo rooms, drying my hair with a clean towel.

He had provided everything—clothes, dinner, toiletries. I had showered, but I hadn’t spoken a word since the drive.

He was outside now.

Maybe picking up our son.

I didn’t know when I agreed to this. We hadn’t even discussed it. But I couldn’t keep my son from his father forever… could I?

Lazarus wanted him.

Zon longed for him.

Was I selfish for holding onto my anger?

The door opened.

“M-Momma!”

Luzon ran toward me.

I stood instantly and gathered him into my arms. Tear streaks marked his cheeks. He clung tightly to my neck, burying his face against my skin.

My heart shattered when he sobbed.

“Don’t cry, baby. Momma’s here,” I whispered, rubbing his back gently.

“M-Momma, I thought you left me po… Where were you?”

I looked over his shoulder.

Lazarus stood by the door, watching us quietly.

“If I couldn’t get my son from you,” he said calmly, “then I’ll take you instead.”

And the worst part?

He knew exactly that I would never choose a place where my son wasn’t.