Chapter 16 Laney
Laney
Ididn’t expect him to look like that.
Saint is usually nothing but control.
All steel.
All quiet danger wrapped in calm.
The kind of man who walks into chaos and bends it to his will.
But right now?
He looks… terrified.
And completely in love.
He’s holding our daughter like she’s made of glass and fire at the same time—one hand cradling her tiny head, the other curled protectively around her back like he’s afraid the world might try to steal her if he loosens his grip for even a second.
Like he knows she’s fragile.
And powerful.
And his.
Something shifts deep inside my chest.
I tell myself it’s just exhaustion.
Just adrenaline.
Just relief after everything we’ve survived.
But the truth?
I’ve been lying to myself for months now.
Marco steps closer, his voice cutting quietly through the room.
“My mother’s people favor pressure,” he says. “She’ll hit something public. Loud. She’ll want you to panic. To run.”
Saint doesn’t even hesitate.
“We won’t.”
The certainty in his voice settles over the room like armor.
Trigger nods from across the table. “We’re already setting up decoys.”
“And we’re moving Laney and the baby tonight,” Wolf adds.
My heart jumps.
“Where?”
Saint finally looks up from the tiny bundle in his arms, his expression softening when his eyes meet mine.
“Somewhere no one knows about.”
I should be scared.
Terrified, even.
Instead…
A strange calm settles over me.
Because he’s here.
Because they’re all here.
Because for the first time in months, I’m not facing the darkness alone.
Saint glances down at our daughter again.
She squirms in his arms, making a tiny sound that barely registers over the hum of voices and radios in the room.
Then…
She yawns.
A wide, dramatic little yawn that makes her whole face scrunch up.
And then…
She smiles.
A real one.
Saint freezes.
Completely.
His eyes widen like he just witnessed a miracle.
“Oh,” he breathes softly.
Then his voice drops into pure awe.
“Oh no.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
“What?” he asks immediately, panic flashing across his face like he thinks something’s wrong.
I wipe at my eyes, still smiling.
“I think she just ruined you forever.”
He looks at the baby.
Then back at me.
Really looks at me.
And something warm and dangerous passes between us—something that has nothing to do with fear or survival.
Something that feels a lot like home.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“I think she did.”