Chapter 21 Three Protectors, One Promise
Ethan
Lila’s pulling away, and it’s driving me insane.
Reading people? It's survival. Comes with the territory, when you grow up protecting your brother and dealing with a father who switched from neglect to rage at the flip of a coin, you learn the shifts, the tells, the warning signs. And Lila? She’s setting off every alarm I have.
Over the last few days, she won’t sleep in anyone’s bed. She claims it's just because she's not feeling well and doesn't want to disturb us, but I know it's more than that. It's another way she's pulling back. For months, she’s fallen asleep wrapped in one of us, tucked between bodies that made her feel safe. Now? She’s in her own room, door locked, drawing an invisible line between us that feels miles wide.
She barely touches us. It's not like she's yelling 'get away', that'd almost be easier. But it’s the little things that kill me. The way she flinches—a tiny, almost imperceptible tightening of her muscles, but I catch it—when my hand grazes hers. The way her answers to even the simplest questions are clipped, her voice carefully neutral as she hesitates a second too long. She’s running, even if she hasn’t moved an inch.
It’s worse, actually. It’s avoidance. If I reach for her, she finds a reason to move, a sudden task that needs doing. If Ryker pulls her into one of his teasing side-hugs, she squirms away with a laugh that sounds brittle and forced. If Bastian so much as brushes against her in the hallway, she stiffens like she’s been caught doing something forbidden, her eyes wide and darting away.
Something is wrong. She won’t tell us what it is, but I’ve noticed she’s been sick. Not just tired, but physically sick. She’s using it as an excuse to keep her distance.
Bastian, predictably, is watching. Quietly. But don't mistake quiet for passive. He watches her like a hawk studying its territory, cataloging every flinch, every averted gaze, every hollow excuse she gives. His usual calm is tighter, strained around the edges. For a man who thrives on control and providing structure, Lila retreating from his established care, from the safety he meticulously provides as her Dom, is not just puzzling—it's a breach in their dynamic.
His mind's working overtime, you can bet, dissecting everything, searching for the cause. I can almost see the questions burning behind his eyes: Is she hurt? Testing boundaries? Or worse, is she genuinely pulling away from him , from the dynamic meant to keep her safe? That last idea? I see it hit him—something coils cold and sharp behind that unnerving stillness.
Ryker’s less subtle about his frustration. The other night, he tossed a pillow at her door and muttered, “Bet I could break that lock.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t even inside.
And then there’s Grim.
He's always been protective of her, but this? This is different. He’s a goddamn shadow, trailing her every move, nudging her hand when she zones out, watching her more closely than usual. He knows something. He knows, and it’s eating me alive that I don’t.
I’ve cornered him about it twice now. The first time, he just shrugged, muttered something about 'women being complicated,' and switched the subject to weapon maintenance. The second time, he gave me that flat, unreadable stare. "Ask her yourself, Mercer. Not my place." Shut down. Completely. Just confirms it—he's covering for her. Knows something, damn it.
I’ve tried talking to her directly. God knows I've tried. But every time, she slips through my fingers with some excuse. “I’m just tired, Ethan.” “I need some space.” “It’s nothing, really.”
No fucking way.
Not like she's trying to hurt us, but she is lying. Something's crushing her, and she’s carrying it alone. And that? That cuts deeper than I can admit.
I’ve spent my life making sure the people I love don’t have to carry burdens alone. First Theo. Then the guys. And now, Lila. Especially Lila.
So why won’t she let me in?
The house feels too damn small with all the space Lila’s put between us. I can’t take it anymore.
I find her outside, standing on the back porch, arms wrapped around herself, as if holding everything in. Behind me, I hear the heavy footfalls of Bastian and Ryker, both of them watching, waiting. The night air is cool, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s staring out at the darkened yard, lost in thought, lost to me.
Enough.
“Lila.” My voice is quieter than I expect, but she still flinches as if I’ve caught her doing something wrong. When she turns, her face is carefully blank. Too careful. Her eyes flick over my shoulder, catching Bastian and Ryker standing in the door, watching us.
“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping closer, giving her space but making it clear I’m not letting her walk away from this. Not again.
“Nothing.” Her voice is a whisper.
Bullshit.
“Angel,” I try again, softer this time. “Please.”
She shakes her head, looking away. “I just… I need some time, Ethan. That’s all.”
No. That’s not all. That’s not even close to the truth.
I step in, close enough that I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself like she might shatter if she lets go. “You’ve been sick,” I say. “You’re barely eating. You won’t look me in the eye. And I can’t—” I cut myself off, exhaling hard. “I can’t help if you won’t let me.”
She makes a strangled sound, half a laugh, half something broken. “You can’t fix everything, Ethan.”
That’s when I see it. The flicker of devastation in her eyes before she schools her face into something unreadable. The way she subtly shifts, bracing herself.
She’s scared.
Not of me. Of this.
And then it clicks.
I don’t think. I reach for her hands, and this time, she doesn’t pull away fast enough. I feel the tremble in her fingers before she rips herself back, wrapping her arms around her stomach protectively.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
My heart stops. My hand flies to my chest, an unconscious move to still the sudden, violent hammering against my ribs. The world tilts, and if the porch rail wasn’t there, I think I’d be on the ground. My lungs refuse to work. Behind me, a harsh sound rips from Bastian, an aborted word, a gasp, something utterly unlike his controlled self. For a split second, the air around him feels chaotic, his formidable composure visibly shattering before he wrestles it back into a terrifyingly rigid stillness. Ryker, for once, doesn’t have a joke—just a stunned silence that says more than words ever could.
She squeezes her eyes shut, and when she finally speaks, it’s barely a whisper.
“I’m pregnant.”
My brain blanks. Completely. The world tilts sideways, and I’m struggling to catch up.
For a second, the words don’t compute. It’s like hearing a foreign language, one I should understand but just… don’t.
I actually stagger back a step, my knees truly buckling this time, saved only by the rail I grip with white-knuckled intensity. The weight of what she just said slams into me like a sledgehammer. My brain scrambles to make sense of it, but there’s only one undeniable truth—this changes everything.
How? When? Why didn’t she tell us sooner?
Who—
No. No, that doesn’t matter. Not even a little. Because none of that changes the fact that Lila— our Lila—is pregnant.
With our baby. Wait, is it our baby?
The silence lasts maybe a heartbeat before Ryker shatters it. But it’s not his usual bravado. For a split second, his face goes utterly blank, his trademark smirk wiped clean, eyes wide with a raw, naked shock that strips him bare. Then, as if his system reboots with a violent jolt, a fractured attempt at his usual persona sputters back to life. He lets out a sharp, discordant sound—less a laugh, more a bark of pure, unfiltered disbelief. He scrubs a hand violently over his face, fingers digging into his jaw, trying to hold himself together.
“Shit. Well, fuck . That’s… one way to keep us on our toes, huh?”
His deflection is paper-thin. I know that look—it’s not frantic energy, it’s panic, raw and bubbling right under the surface; the wildness in his eyes isn't amusement, it's overload. He's seconds from either punching something or running—maybe both.
Lila flinches hard at his outburst, shrinking further into herself. I shoot Ryker a warning glare that could melt glaciers before turning my full attention back to her fragile form.
While Ryker's all noise and frantic energy, Bastian goes dead still beside me. Like granite. His whole body locks down, rigid, though I saw that crack, that infinitesimal moment his control fractured and he was just as vulnerable as the rest of us. Now, I can practically feel the calculations racing behind those eyes. His piercing gaze fixes on Lila—intensity that could bore through steel. Assessing risks, implications... you can see his mind mapping out every damn scenario. He looks like he's trying to dissect the reality of her words just by staring.
She sways slightly, barely holding herself upright. Then, Bastian finds his voice, his tone measured but firm, cutting through the lingering shockwaves of Ryker's reaction. "How far along?" The question hangs in the air, heavy, unspoken fears threading through it.
For a beat, she doesn’t answer, then she exhales, shaky but certain. "Two months."
Lila watches us, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts, as if waiting for us to break. She doesn’t trust this moment. Doesn’t trust us not to disappoint her. And that thought nearly kills me.
Relief hits like a tidal wave. She's been with us for four months. There’s no doubt. This baby is ours . Her eyes flicker between us, waiting, bracing. And fuck, I hate that. I hate that she’s scared of how we’ll react. Like there’s even a possibility we’d turn away from her. Saying the words out loud has made it real in a way nothing else could.
It’s like a dam inside me cracks, and everything rushes in at once. The fear, the disbelief, the bone-deep understanding that nothing will ever be the same again. But beneath it all, one thing is clear— The shock, the disbelief, the weight of it—it doesn’t vanish, but it settles.
She’s ours.
The baby is ours.
And we’re not letting her do this alone.
Lila’s bracing for rejection, maybe, or an argument over who the father is. She sinks to the floor, knees pulled up slightly, the weight of the moment physically knocking her down. Tears are rolling freely down her cheeks now, silent tracks of misery and fear.
I can't take it. Seeing her cry like this, small and broken on the cold porch floor when this news… it should be something joyous, something to be celebrated, even amidst the chaos of our lives… it shatters something inside me. Seeing her pain, knowing why she's crying—thinking we’d abandon her, reject her or our baby—is a physical ache in my chest.
Before I fully process the decision, I'm moving. I drop down, squatting in front of her, my hands reaching out. "Come here, Angel," I murmur, my voice thick. Gently, ignoring her startled gasp, I scoop her up, pulling her shivering body onto my lap, settling back against the wall so I can hold her properly. Her slight weight is nothing, fragile and trembling against my chest.
I hold her tight, one hand splayed protectively across her back, the other tangled in her hair, just needing her close, trying to soak up some of her fear. I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in.
I shake my head, the words finally leaving my mouth, low and fierce against her hair. “You’re ours, Lila. The baby’s ours. We’re in this together.”
She flinches in my arms, her eyes snapping up to meet mine, wide and swimming with tears, raw with exposed panic. I can’t tell if it's guilt or terror dominating her expression. She swallows hard, her hands curling into fists against my chest as if bracing for impact. She seems to be searching my face for doubt. There’s none. Just the truth. Just the way it’s always been.
Bastian steps forward, his presence solid, unshakable. “You won’t do this alone, Little One,” he says, voice steady. No hesitation, no uncertainty. A simple fact.
Lila makes a sound—small, almost strangled—and it guts me. She doesn’t believe us. Not fully.
Then Ryker moves. No jokes, no deflection, just him crouching down in front of us, his hands coming to rest lightly on her thighs. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily, Baby Girl.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “No matter how scared you are, no matter what’s running through your head right now, you need to get one thing straight.” He lifts a hand, presses his palm gently over her stomach. “This? You? You’re ours. And nothing changes that.”
Her breath hitches, eyes welling with more tears she’s trying so hard to hold back but failing miserably.
I pull her trembling body closer, and she shatters against me. A broken sound rips from her lips—half sob, half gasp—and she clings to me with desperate strength, her fingers digging into my chest as if afraid I’ll dissolve if she loosens her grip. I wrap my arms tighter around her small frame, tucking her head under my chin, surrounding her with my warmth.
Bastian moves towards us, his solid presence a tangible anchor on her other side. One large hand smooths firmly down her back, a steady, grounding pressure that speaks volumes. He leans in close, his lips brushing her temple in a brief, possessive kiss before whispering directly into her ear, his voice a low, calming rumble meant only for her: "You're safe now, Little One. Nothing harms you or our baby. Daddy promises."
Before she can even fully register his quiet vow, Ryker moves, closing the last remaining space, effectively boxing her in with our bodies. His arms wrap tightly around us , pulling her flush against him from behind, his forehead resting heavily against the crown of her head, his breath ruffling her hair. We hold her together, a solid wall of muscle and warmth and unwavering intent.
Between my chest, Bastian's side, Ryker's front, we've got her enveloped, cushioned. Our scents mingle with the salt of her tears, the murmur of Bastian's low reassurances blending with the rough hitch of Ryker's breathing and the steady thud of my own heart against her ear.
We make sure she feels it —knows she's surrounded, protected. Ours.
We’re not going anywhere.
She lets out a shaky breath, and when she finally speaks, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I was so scared. I thought… maybe you’d be angry.”
I shake my head, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to be. Not with us. We will never be angry with you over something like this.”
Bastian hums his agreement. “We’ll figure this out together.”
Ryker huffs a laugh, though it’s more breath than sound. “Yeah. And I call dibs on teaching the kid how to throw a punch.”
Lila lets out something between a sob and a laugh, and it’s the best thing I’ve heard in days.
We hold her tighter.
She’s ours. And we’re hers.
No matter what comes next.
Lila melts into us, the tension slowly draining from her body as she lets herself feel —lets herself believe that she isn’t alone in this. Her fingers clutch at my shirt, grounding herself, and I can feel the faint tremble in her breath against my chest. I press my lips to her forehead, lingering there as I whisper, “We’ve always got you, Angel.”
Bastian’s hand rests on her back, steady, grounding. “No matter what happens, we take care of our own,” he murmurs, a quiet vow that carries more weight than any grand declaration.
Ryker exhales slowly, his fingers brushing over her arm, his usual bravado stripped away in this moment. “Shit, Baby Girl,” he mutters, voice rough. “You scared the hell out of us.”
She lets out a small, shaky laugh at that, the sound almost fragile. But it’s real. It’s her. And it tells me that she’s finally starting to understand— we’re not going anywhere.
Bastian pulls back slightly, glancing towards the house. “Let’s get inside,” he suggests. “You need to be warm and comfortable.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and for once, Lila doesn’t fight him.
Before I even make a move to stand with Lila still cradled against me, Ryker steps forward, muttering, "Right, move it, Mercer." He bends down, effortlessly scooping Lila out of my lap and into his own arms, bridal style. She makes a small, surprised sound but doesn't protest, letting her head rest against his shoulder.
"Hey, I had her," I grumble good-naturedly, pushing myself up off the cold porch floor. "Pushy bastard."
Ryker just grunts, already turning towards the house with his precious cargo. "Yeah, well, she looks half-frozen. Faster this way."
Bastian follows Ryker inside, his hand resting briefly on the small of Lila's back as they pass through the doorway. I trail behind them, shaking my head slightly at Ryker's antics, though my chest feels tight with relief that she's letting us take care of her.
Once inside, Ryker deposits Lila gently onto the plush living room couch. Immediately, Bastian's fussing over her, tucking a soft throw blanket around her legs, checking the temperature, heading toward the kitchen presumably for the tea he seems to think fixes everything. She lets him, not even attempting to push him away, the exhaustion evident in her posture as she sinks into the cushions.
As soon as she’s settled on the couch with her tea, Bastian steps back, eyeing her carefully. Satisfied she's comfortable, he exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw as if trying to rein in his temper. Then, his gaze still locked on Lila, he barks, “Grim. Get in here now.”
The man in question appears in the doorway, arms crossed, utterly unbothered. “Figured you’d be calling me in sooner or later.”
Bastian doesn’t waste words. “You knew.” It’s not a question.
Grim raises a brow, completely unfazed. “Course I did. Who do you think took her to the doctor?”
Ryker’s jaw tightens. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”
Grim shrugs, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Wasn’t my secret to tell.”
Bastian’s eyes narrow. “You put her at risk by keeping it from us. If something happened—”
“I wouldn’t have let anything happen,” Grim cuts in, calm as ever. Then he grins, that infuriating smirk making an appearance. “Besides, I told her this would happen. Didn’t I, Princess?”
Lila groans, covering her face with her hands. “I knew you were going to say that.”
I glance at her. “Told you what?”
Grim’s grin widens. “That the second they found out, they’d go full-blown overprotective mode on you. And look at that— I was right. ”
Ryker, still tense from the emotional whirlwind, grabs a nearby pillow and chucks it at Grim’s head. “Real helpful, asshole.” Grim catches it easily, smirking.
Bastian exhales sharply, the sound tight, clearly reigning himself in from snapping at Grim. “Security detail is increasing, effective immediately.”
Grim gives a lazy salute. “Already on it. Been increased since I took her to the doctor a few days ago.”
A muscle feathers in Bastian’s jaw at Grim’s confirmation, but the anger passes, his focus sharpening like a razor. The shock recedes. This is Bastian taking charge—the strategist, the CEO, the Dom . He straightens slightly, his gaze sweeping over Lila, then landing on me.
“Ethan,” his voice is crisp, cutting through the lingering tension, all business now. “Start downloading prenatal care apps. I want calendars synced, potential OB-GYN appointments researched—top specialists only. Find comprehensive guides on fetal development, nutrition, what to expect. Order prenatal supplements, get the best reviewed, highest quality. We’ll need to arrange for a private chef immediately to ensure Lila’s getting optimal nutrition; coordinate dietary requirements with Grim based on the doctor's initial recommendations.”
He pauses, his gaze flicking around the living room as if already mentally redesigning it. “And the nursery. We need to start planning. Location, design, safety features. As well as starting to baby proof the whole house.” His eyes find mine again, sharp and demanding. “We need to schedule appointments to accommodate all three of our schedules. We are all attending. Every single one. Understood?”
I nod, slightly reeling from the rapid-fire directives but also grounded by the familiar certainty of Bastian taking control. “Understood, Bas. I’m on it.” He gives a curt nod, the planner momentarily satisfied, though I know his mind is already ten steps ahead. Ryker just watches him, a strange mix of awe and exasperation on his face.
Nestled against my side, Lila gives a soft, watery chuckle. I glance down at her, surprised. A faint smile touches her lips as she meets my gaze, shaking her head slightly.
"Just let him," she whispers, her voice barely audible over Bastian's mumbling and muttering about all the things we need to do in the next 7 months. "It helps him... feel like he has control of the situation. It's his way."
That she gets him, even now... warmth floods through me. She sees him, truly sees him.
The tension finally eases further... Bastian's planning becomes a low hum in the background, and Lila seems to accept it. As the night settles around us, I glance down at her again, watching as she leans fully into me now.
I brush my knuckles over her cheek, then lower my hand, hesitating only for a second before resting it over her stomach. Lila looks down at my hand, then slowly covers it with hers. Her fingers thread through mine, pressing down as if she needs to feel it, to ground herself in this moment.
“We’re gonna take care of you,” I murmur. “Both of you.”
Lila swallows hard, and I don’t miss the shimmer in her eyes before she nods. “I know.”
That’s all I need.
Bastian’s voice is quiet but steady, his planning mode softening slightly as he looks back at Lila. “You’ll never do this alone.” Ryker exhales roughly, squeezing her hip gently. “Yeah, Baby Girl. We’ve got you. Both of you. You're stuck with us now.”
Bastian presses a kiss to the side of her head. Ryker tugs her closer against his side, his usual teasing absent, replaced with something quieter, deeper. And as we sit there, me on one side of her, Ryker flanking the other, Bastian settled close on the floor before her wrapped around her, the earlier chaos replaced by a fragile peace, I know with absolute certainty:
She’s ours.
And nothing will ever change that.