Epilogue
GEORGIE
Six months later…
Pain rips through me, sharp and blinding, and I grab Gavin's hand hard enough that my knuckles turn white.
"Where the hell is the doctor?" Gavin's voice cuts through the sterile hospital air like a blade. "Someone better get in here right fucking now or?—"
"Gavin." I squeeze his hand harder, dragging his attention back to me. "Stop. You're not helping."
"Baby girl, I just need to make sure?—"
"You need to shut up and hold my hand." Another contraction builds, and I grit my teeth against it. "I swear to God, if you don't calm down, I'm going to murder you right here in this delivery room."
His jaw works, that dangerous look flickering across his face—the one that usually means someone's about to have a very bad day. But underneath it, something else shows through. Something raw and exposed.
Fear.
Real, genuine terror in those dark gray eyes, stripped of all the armor he usually wears.
"Hey." My voice comes softer now. "Look at me. I'm okay. The babies are okay. We've done this a hundred times in prenatal classes. Remember?"
"That was practice." His thumb strokes over my knuckles, gentler than his harsh tone suggests. "This is real. You're in pain, and I can't—I can't fix it."
The vulnerability in those words cracks something open in my chest. This man who runs an empire, who kills without hesitation, who made grown men tremble with a look—reduced to helplessness because I'm hurting and he can't stop it.
"You're here. That's all I need."
Another contraction hits, stronger this time, stealing my breath. My nails dig into his palm, and a string of curses flies from my mouth that would make a sailor blush.
"Christ, that's it." Gavin moves toward the door. "I'm getting?—"
"If you leave this room, Gavin Gates, I will kill you. Then I'll bring you back to life just so I can kill you again." The words come out as a growl, primal and fierce. "You did this to me. So you're staying right here to watch what happens when you can't keep your hands to yourself."
"Technically, you started it that first night when you came to my bedroom?—"
"Wrong answer!"
He shuts up immediately and comes back to my side. His hand finds mine again, solid and steady despite the panic still dancing in his eyes.
Hours blur together—pain and pressure and Gavin's voice in my ear, low and constant, telling me how strong I am, how perfect, how much he loves me. When the first baby comes, her cry fills the room, sharp and indignant at being thrust into the cold world.
"One more," someone says, and I'm already bearing down again, body taking over where my mind wants to check out.
The second twin follows minutes later, just as loud, just as beautiful.
Exhaustion crashes over me, but I force my eyes to stay open, watching as Gavin cradles both girls against his massive chest. The contrast steals my breath—these tiny, fragile creatures nestled against all that muscle and ink and danger.
His hands, capable of such violence, hold them with a gentleness that makes my throat tight.
"Georgie." His voice cracks. "Look at them. Look what we made."
"They're perfect."
"They're ours." Wonder fills his expression, raw and unguarded. When he looks up at me, tears track down his face. "I love you. So fucking much."
"I love you too."