Chapter 57 #2
“That’s not just about comfort,” I said. “It’s marking her. Anything she wears—public or private—comes from us or passes our approval. Every piece will fit her body and tell the room she’s ours.”
“No grabbing whatever’s on the floor. Her clothes protect her, elevate her, and remind everyone, especially her—that she’s not moving through this life as anything but ours”
The next line: Maintain her collar.
“It doesn’t come off unless we take it off,” I said. “Not for punishment, not for petty reasons. Only in ceremony, reverence, or if a medic says it has to.”
Luca’s mouth twitched. “She’ll know it’s for life before she even wears it.”
I tapped the next vow. Bear her pain.
“That’s not just when it’s easy,” I said. “If she falls apart, we hold her weight. If she fails, we take the blame. And she will try to hide it—pretend she’s fine until she’s not.”
“Not anymore. We see her starting to fade, we pull her back before she slips under. We know her tells, we read them, and we act before she has to ask.”
Last line we’d marked: Respect her cycles.
“She doesn’t bend to fit our rhythm,” I said. “Physical, emotional—if she wants our hands one night and space the next, we adapt. Not her.”
“And when her cycle hits, we don’t push,” Luca traced tapped the edge of book.
“We care. We find ways to make it easier. Heat packs, baths, food she’ll actually eat, making the room quiet.
If she’s hurting, we work around it—not through it.
She doesn’t have to earn touch or attention when she’s bleeding. She gets it because she’s ours.”
“And we stay close. Even if she says she wants space, she knows where we are. And she knows we’ll close that space the second she needs it.”
We turned the page.
“Heirs,” he said finally.
The word landed heavier than any other law we’d gone through tonight. More binding than the collar. More permanent than the seal.
“There’s no test,” I told him immediately. “No bloodwork. No swabs. No quiet checks behind her back. If she carries, it’s ours. That’s the end of it.”
His gaze cut to mine, sharp. “Ours. But we need to know the second she’s off birth control. She tells us first. Not after, not by accident. And not because some dynasty doctor sends us a file.”
“She’ll stop when she’s ready. Not when a handler says, or when the Codex says. Her choice. But when she does, she’ll know exactly what it means for us. And she’ll know it’s not for them.”
Luca’s jaw flexed. “She’ll try to keep it balanced, Bastion. She’ll think she has to give both of us equal moments, equal nights, like there’s a scoreboard. She’ll try to keep herself visible for appearances. Even when she’s tired. Even when she shouldn’t be on her feet.”
“Not happening,” I said flatly. “If she’s carrying, she doesn’t set foot in a dynasty hall without us. She doesn’t walk into a room we haven’t cleared. She doesn’t give them the photo op they’ll salivate over.”
“She won’t like being pulled from view. She’ll fight it. She’s going to think we’re locking her away.”
“She is ours ,” I said, leaning forward. “Ours to protect. Ours to keep breathing. She doesn’t get to run herself into the ground to play perfect dynasty wife for their cameras and the Crow Dynasty,”
Luca reached for the cigarette packet. I was surprised he had lasted this long.
“You think I’m going to watch her walk into a table full of men like Damius when she’s carrying our child?You think I’m going to sit there and let them calculate how to get leverage on her while she’s?—”
“No,” I cut in. “That’s the point. We’ll shut it down before it happens. She gets pulled from public view. Quietly. No scandals. No whispers. Just… gone. Until we say she can be seen again. ”
Luca’s started searching for his lighter. “And if they push for her to appear?”
“They’ll get one of us instead,” I handed him mine. “Every time. I’ll sit in her seat. You’ll shake the hands meant for her. They’ll get the message.”
He nodded slowly, but there was a flicker of something else—possessive, almost raw—in his eyes. “And what about her?”
“What about her?”
“When she tries to keep moving. Because she will. Even with us pulling her back. She’ll push herself, smile through it, hide it so we don’t stop her. We’ve seen her do it before.”
Emilia was trained to put her needs last. The Adams Dynasty held a different set of values.
“Then we take away the choice. We design the days so she can’t overreach. No unapproved schedules. No back-to-back events. She wakes when we wake her. She works when we allow it. She rests when we tell her. That’s how we keep her safe—from them and from herself.”
Luca leaned back, the tension in him shifting into something heavier. “Pregnancy means dynasty protection on paper, but in reality? It paints a bigger target. If someone wanted to hurt us?—”
“They’d go through her. And that’s why we’ll make her impossible to reach.”
He was silent for a moment, but I knew he was picturing it too—her hand resting over a stomach that wasn’t showing yet but already claimed.
“They’ll say we locked her in for the bloodline,” he murmured.
“And they’ll be wrong,” I said. “We locked her in because she’s ours. The blood just proves it.”
Luca lit two cigarettes .
“We need to talk about heirs.” I said, taking one cigarette from him.
He didn’t look up right away. “We already agreed.”
“Not like this.” I kept my voice even, but my hand was tight around the glass edge of the table. “I want it between us—spoken. Ours are ours . Whether they take the oath or not, no one is cutting them off.”
That got his eyes on me.
“No one’s taking them from us, Bastion,” he said, like it was fact.
I shook my head. “You know this family. A Crow who doesn’t swear in is treated like a ghost. Titles stripped. Protections gone. You watch your own blood walk past you in the street like they never knew you.”
“Not happening. Not to ours. Not for any oath. The dynasty doesn’t decide who they belong to. They belong to us .”
“Good.” My jaw clenched around the word. “Because I don’t care if our son spits on the crest or our daughter refuses every path they set for her. They’ll still have every shield, every dollar, every nameplate. They’ll live under our roof. Eat at our table.”
“They’ll still carry our name,” he exhaled.
“And our blood. We decide how they’re raised. We decide when they’re seen. And if she needs us to pull them out of the public eye?—”
“Then they disappear,” he said, like it was already done. “Same way she did when she needed it.”
“Then it’s set,” I said. “No handlers. No dynasty tutors we don’t pick. No one outside this family decides their worth.”
He leaned back, holding my gaze. “Ours.”
I nodded once. “Ours.”