Malcolm's jaw tightened at the question. His hands slid from my back to my hips, pulling me closer like he could shield me from the answer just by holding on tight enough.

“The stranger,” he repeated, the word bitter on his tongue. “I don't know yet. That's what's eating at me.” He exhaled sharply, his breath warm against my temple. “He knew too much. Showed up too perfectly. And the way he looked at your stomach like he already knew what was growing there.”

A chill ran down my spine. “You noticed that too.”

“I notice everything when it comes to you.” He pulled back just enough to look at...