Declan
I don’t knock. I rip it open.
Ailish is sitting on the bed, propped against pillows, pale under the fluorescent lights. Her hair is mussed, her cheeks blotchy from crying, her clothes hospital-issued. My heart—this thing I’ve treated like an annoyance for most of my life—goes to its knees.
She looks up. And relief flashes across her face so fast, so bright, it knocks the breath out of me. “You’re here,” she whispers.
I cross the room in three strides and cup her face in both hands, lowering my forehead to hers. She’s warm. Real. Breathing. My voice comes out rough. “Jesus, Ailish—what the hell did they do to you?”
Her lips tremble. “Nothing. Not really. Just—threats. And fear. And—”
Her voice breaks again. I force myself to breathe evenly because if I fall apart now she will too, and she deserves steadiness. She deserves peace. She deserves every shelter I never built fast enough.
A nurse slips inside the room then, clearing her throat gently. “We need to talk.”
I do not remove my hand from Ailish. “Say it.”
“There were signs of early labor,” the nurse says softly. “It has been stopped for now with medication. But she needs strict rest. Stress reduction. Close monitoring.” Her eyes meet mine. “She—and the baby—were very close to danger.”
Every muscle in my body locks. “But they’re both okay?”
“For now.”
The words hit me like a bullet to the sternum.
My hand slides to Ailish’s belly instinctively. She flinches, not from pain, but emotion. I glance at her, reading the panic she’s trying to hide. She’s trembling. She’s exhausted. And she’s trying to seem stronger than she feels.
I swallow hard. “We’re leaving.”
The nurse opens her mouth. Closes it. Nods. There’s no point arguing.
Ten minutes later, I’m carrying Ailish out the back door, one arm under her legs, the other around her back. She protests weakly once, saying, “Declan, put me down, I’m fine,” but she wraps her arms around my neck anyway.
“You nearly went into labor,” I growl. “You’re not walking anywhere.”
She presses her forehead into my collarbone. I feel her breath against my skin, uneven but steady.
I do not let go of her the entire drive.
The safehouse Liam arranged is halfway to the border, a place run by old allies. They’re waiting outside when we pull up, two of them shifting awkwardly when they see Ailish in my arms.
“She needs a bed,” I say flatly. “And privacy.”
They step aside immediately.
Inside, the safehouse smells of pine cleaner and old wooden beams. The floors creak. The lamps give off soft amber light. It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t seen a woman inside in ten years.
Ailish mutters, “It’s quaint,” against my shoulder.
I huff out something that might be a laugh.
I get her settled in a bedroom on the second floor—clean sheets, heavy blankets, a window overlooking a field of tall grass. She exhales slowly when her back hits the mattress. Her eyelids sag with exhaustion.
“You should have a midwife look at you,” I say. My voice is too sharp. Too full of fear.
She nods once. “Mackenzie knows someone, I’m sure. One call.”
“I’ll make it.”
After that, there’s nothing to do but wait. Ailish sleeps in short fits, waking once to curl a hand around mine, whispering, “Don’t leave.”
As if I could.
But I need to call Liam. So I step out onto the porch, rub both hands over my face, and dial him.
He answers on the second ring. “Tell me she’s safe.”
“She is. Barely.” My jaw works. “Liam—she had signs of early labor.”
There’s a pause long enough for the wind to whistle through the line. “Tell me the baby’s still alive.”
“They’re both alive. But she’s not going anywhere for a while.”
Liam exhales, but it’s not relief—it’s frustration mixed with fear. “Declan, listen to me. You staying with her—”
“I’m not leaving her.”
“You have to,” he says, voice low and firm. “We need you. There’s movement on the pipeline. A border estate. They’re not done aiming for us. If you stay with her, we lose ground we don’t have.”
He’s right. And I hate that he’s right. “I can’t just abandon her,” I snap.
“You’re not abandoning her. You’re protecting her by fighting for her. But right now, I need my brother at my side, not gone missing in the countryside.”
I grit my teeth so hard it hurts. “She needs me.”
“And the war needs you more,” he says quietly. “If you don’t help me hit back, none of us survive long enough for that baby to be born.”
The truth of it is a weight I feel in my bones. “Let me stay the night,” I say. “Just the night.”
There’s a long pause. “One night. But you leave by sunrise.”
“Liam—”
“One night.” He hangs up.
I stare at my phone. My hand shakes before I shove it into my pocket.
Ailish is sleeping when I return. The room is dim except for the small lamp in the corner. She looks so small under the blankets. So breakable. And she’s never been breakable.
I sit beside her on the bed. Not touching. Not trusting myself to.
When she stirs, I reach for her hand. “Ailish,” I say quietly. “Wake up, love.”
Her eyes flutter open. She blinks at me a few times, as if making sure I’m real. “You’re back.”
“I’m here.”
Her lips part with a shaky breath. “Declan… I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“I will always make it to you.” The confession slips out, raw and unguarded. Her eyes soften in a way that makes my chest ache.
She shifts, and instinctively, my hand goes to her belly. “How’s the baby?”
“Resting,” she whispers. “Like they know we’re safe for a moment.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I got permission to stay tonight. Just tonight.”
Her face falls, but not with anger—with something smaller. Something hurting. “Of course,” she says softly. “You’re needed.”
I don’t let her retreat into that quiet acceptance. I lean down and press my forehead to hers. “Listen to me. I didn’t want to go. I fought him on it.”
“Declan…”
“I thought I lost you,” I say, voice breaking despite my effort. “And I can’t—I can’t do that again.”
Her hand rises slowly, trembling a bit, and cups my cheek. “I’m right here.”
I lift her hand and press a kiss into her palm.
Then another. And then I kiss her lips—slow, deep, full of every fear I’ve carried since she disappeared.
She leans into me, fingers curling in my hair, pulling me closer.
There’s no desperation this time. No anger.
Just relief. Connection. Something fragile and real growing between us like a new pulse.
I reach into my jacket and pull out a small black pager—old-fashioned, outdated, but untraceable. I place it in her hand and curl her fingers around it. “This stays with you,” I tell her. “You press that button, I come running. No matter where I am. No matter what I’m doing. You don’t hesitate.”
Her eyes shine. “Declan…”
“I mean it,” I say, letting my thumb brush her knuckles. “Anything. Anytime. You call, I’m there.”
She squeezes the pager. “What if I need you now?”
“You have me now,” I say softly. “You have me tonight.”
Ailish looks up at me with something that could break a lesser man. “And tomorrow?”
I swallow, because honesty is the only thing she deserves. “Tomorrow,” I say, voice low, “I fight so you and the baby live long enough for me to earn the right to come back.”
She presses her forehead to mine. “Come back, Declan.”
“I will,” I whisper. “I promise you—I’ll always come back.”