Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Mai
The contraction didn’t care that the room reeked of blood and magic. It didn’t care that Jonas snarled on the floor, or that Esme’s vines creaked as they tightened on Vera. My body had decided.
The babies were coming.
I sagged against the bedpost, panting, vision spotted with stars.
“Ryan—” My voice was little more than a rasp.
Ryan shoved Glenn’s head into the wall so hard that plaster snowed down. “Derek, get them out of here!” Then he crossed the space in three strides and caught me before my legs gave out.
“I’ve got you.”
Our bond flared, white-hot—his fear, his fury, his love pouring through me like fire in my veins. His wolf shoved at mine, desperate to share the burden.
“I can’t—” Another wave locked around my middle.
“Yes, you can.” One hand pressed to my back, anchoring me to him, to our Pack. His other hand cupped my jaw like he could hold me together with sheer force of will. “We’ve got you. All of us.”
Sofia’s voice cut through, sharp and sure. “Thomas!”
Boots on the stairs. Thomas filled the doorway a heartbeat later, his salt and pepper hair damp with sweat, Wally right behind him. He took one look at me, then at Ryan.
“It’s time,” Thomas said.
“No shit,” I groaned.
Wally picked up a discarded blanket and threw it over the shattered dresser, like that was the problem. But his hands were steady as he popped open Thomas’s bag and started laying things out.
“Sterile towels, gloves, scissors—pink gloves, obviously. Don’t give me that look, Thomas. Yes, I sneaked them in there, but they’re clean.”
I bowed forward, forehead pressing into Ryan’s chest. His heartbeat thundered under my ear. I dragged in his scent until it filled my lungs and quieted the shake in my hands.
“I can’t do this here,” I whispered.
“You can,” Ryan growled, holding me tighter. “You will. I’m right here.”
Thomas kneeled beside me, checking my pulse, his big hands gentle. “Contractions?”
“Close,” I ground out.
“How close?”
“Too close,” Ryan snarled.
“Helpful,” Thomas muttered dryly. He met my eyes. “We have to do this here, Mai. It won’t be pretty, but you’re safe.”
Safe.
The word nearly undid me. The house bore scars of battle, but the danger was gone. My Pack stood between me and the world.
Another contraction built, fast, and I screamed through it, clinging to Ryan. His wolf rumbled through the bond, low and desperate.
“Breathe,” Sofia said in my ear, her fingers threading through mine. “Don’t crush Ryan’s hand—crush mine.”
I choked on a laugh and a sob, squeezing her hand so hard she winced, but she didn’t let go.
“That’s it,” Thomas coached. “Good. Mai, you’ve been through worse.”
I shook my head violently. “No. Never this.”
But his calm steadiness cut through the terror. And Wally’s ridiculous muttering—“Do we want soothing jazz or a power ballad? Because I can hum, either,”—dragged a laugh out of me.
The next minutes blurred into contraction and breath, Thomas’s voice guiding, Ryan’s arms anchoring. Esme kept muttering little spells, lighting the corners of the room with tiny orbs of warm glow. Jem stood guard, fists clenched, eyes bright. Sofia never let go of my hand.
Then Thomas’s tone sharpened. “First pup’s crowning.”
“No—” The word ripped out of me, wild. The sudden panic was overwhelming. I couldn’t do this; I wasn’t ready to be a mother. “They’re too early—”
“They’re ready,” Thomas said firmly. “And so are you.”
Ryan kissed the top of my head, his lips hot. “You’re ready. We both are. You’re the strongest damn wolf I’ve ever known.”
I wanted to believe him. But my body was shaking, sweat soaking my shirt, pain tearing through me. I thought of Seth’s fists, Oliver’s cruelty, Hayley’s betrayal. None of it compared.
But this wasn’t about breaking me. This was about making me.
Sofia leaned close, whispering so only I heard: “You’ve got a whole Pack waiting for these babies. You’re not alone anymore.”
Not alone. Never again.
The next wave crested. I bore down with everything I had.
Then the room filled with the thin, furious, impossibly beautiful wail of new life.
The first pup.
Ryan choked, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. His big hands trembled where they held me. Through the blur of sweat and tears, I saw Thomas lift a slick, squalling bundle into the light.
“Time of birth: twenty-three fifty-five,” he said. “A girl.”
A girl. My daughter.
Something split open inside me—pain, joy, terror, love—flooding everything at once.
Derek grinned. “Of course she’s a girl. Only a girl would come out screaming like that.”
Wally clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “She’s glorious!”
Ryan pressed his forehead to mine, his breath rough. “Ours,” he whispered. His wolf pressed against mine, joy crashing through the bond so strong I almost drowned in it.
Thomas clipped the cord quickly and wrapped her in a towel. For a heartbeat, I could only stare—tiny fists punching the air, a mouth open in outrage, a head full of damp dark curls. I breathed in her scent, raw and new and wolf all at once, and my chest split wide with love.
Thomas laid her in Ryan’s arms first, and she quietened immediately.
He cradled her like she belonged there, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact weight in his arms, his massive hands dwarfing her tiny body.
He bent his head, gaze drinking her in as if he could memorize every fragile detail in one breath.
Even in his True Shift, with claws and fur, his touch was impossibly gentle.
I felt his hesitation through the bond, a flicker of fear that he might frighten her with the beast he thought he was.
But our daughter only blinked up at him, eyes wide and calm. One impossibly small hand uncurled, grasping the tip of his finger. The sound that rumbled out of Ryan shook his whole chest—not a growl, but something low and reverent.
He shifted her gently, careful, as if she were the most precious thing in existence, and lowered her to me, placing our daughter on my chest.
Her skin was hot against mine. “Hello, little one.”
For one shining moment, everything was still.
And then another contraction ripped through me, and Sofia swept our baby girl into her arms.
Thomas’s tone sharpened. “Second one’s breech.”
The words pierced through the haze of pain. My whole body went cold. Breech.
Fear spiked through the bond, sharp enough to steal my breath.
“What do we—?” I started, but the contraction ripped the words out of me.
Thomas’s hands were steady, sure. “Mai, listen. I need to reach in and guide the baby around. It’s going to hurt.”
I clenched my teeth, bracing. “Do it.”
White fire tore through me as his hand pressed low, firm and unyielding. My body tried to lock against it, but Thomas’s voice threaded through the pain: “Breathe, Mai. You’ve got this. Just one turn.”
I screamed, gripping Ryan’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He didn’t flinch. He caged me in his arms, voice rough and relentless in my ear: “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
The pressure shifted, deeper, twisting. And then—release. The baby flipped, the sharp wrongness replaced by a low, driving need to push.
Thomas exhaled hard. “Good. He’s head-down now. You’re clear.”
Esme’s glow brightened, bathing us all in golden warmth. “Two little stars,” she sang softly. “Twin flames, twin hearts.”
My body convulsed—and then the room went very, very quiet.
No cry.
For one suspended heartbeat, no one breathed.
Thomas bent close, listening. “A boy,” he said, calm settling over his features. “Exactly five minutes past midnight. Heartbeat strong. Breathing good. He’s a quiet one, just taking everything in.”
Relief broke over me in a sob.
Ryan made a raw sound as Thomas handed him the boy. Ryan cradled him close, awe etched into every line of his body. The baby didn’t flail like his sister; his little hands opened and closed, testing the air, then settled to curl around one of Ryan’s fingers as if confirming—yes, this one.
“Look at him, Mai,” Ryan whispered, voice cracking. “Our son.”
Wally dissolved into noisy tears.
Jem stepped closer, shoulders squared, voice rough. “They’re absolutely beautiful, Mai.”
I sagged against Ryan, utterly spent, sobbing with relief. He kissed my temple over and over, murmuring things I couldn’t even hear through the haze.
Our son finally let loose a cry, and his sister immediately joined in. Two cries filled the room, weaving together into one wild, beautiful chorus.
The twins.
Safe. Loved. Ours.