Page 116 of Say You're Mine

Let them come. Let the whole fucking world try to stand in our way. We'll face it together, Cara and me. Two halves of a whole, stronger united than we ever were apart.

This is our story. Our legacy. And we're just getting started.

The SUV tears down the road, the engine growling with every shift of the gears. The cool night air rushes in through the cracked windows, mingling with the scent of blood and sweat. I hold Cara tight, murmuring words of comfort as she clutches my shirt, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"It's okay, baby. We're almost there. Just hold on a little longer," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"June," she pants, her voice strained with pain. "I can't... the baby... it's coming."

I glance at Dante, who sits in the front seat, his face a mask of grim determination. He barks into his radio, issuing rapid commands to his men. "We're not gonna make it to the hospital in time," he says, turning to look at me. "Judith and Cara's mom are at the safe house. We need to head there."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of Judith and Cara's mom. Judith – the one who always knows what to do, the rock I can rely on. And Cara's mom, once a nurse, now retired, but still possessing the skills we desperately need right now.

"Drive faster," I growl, my voice a mix of fear and determination. "We need to get there. Now."

Dante nods and floors the gas pedal, the SUV lurching forward with a burst of speed. Cara moans in pain, her grip on my shirt tightening. I stroke her hair, murmuring soothing words, trying to keep her calm.

"We're almost there, baby. Just a little longer. You're so strong. You've got this."

The minutes stretch into eternity, but finally, we pull up to the safe house. Judith and Cara's mom, Emily, rush out to meet us, their faces pale but resolute.

"Get her inside," Judith orders, her voice steady despite the tension in her eyes.

I carry Cara into the house, cradling her as gently as I can. We lay her down on a makeshift bed in the living room, and Emily immediately springs into action, her hands moving with practiced precision.

"June, stay by her head," Emily instructs, her voice calm and authoritative. "Judith, get me some towels and warm water. Now."

Judith nods and disappears into the kitchen, returning moments later with the supplies. Emily works quickly, her hands steady and sure as she checks Cara's progress.

"You're doing great, sweetie," Emily murmurs, her voice soothing. "Just keep breathing. That's it. You're almost there."

Cara cries out, her body tensing with another contraction. I hold her hand, whispering words of encouragement, my heart breaking at the sight of her in so much pain.

"I'm here, baby. I'm right here. You've got this. You're so strong."

The room is filled with the sounds of Cara's labor, the urgency and intensity of the moment pressing down on all of us. Emily works tirelessly, guiding Cara through each contraction, offering reassurance and support.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Emily looks up, her eyes bright with determination. "Okay, Cara. I need you to push. You're almost there. Just one big push."

Cara nods, her face twisted with pain and effort. She grips my hand, her strength surprising me as she bears down, giving it everything she has. I stroke her hair, murmuring words of love and encouragement.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good. Just a little more. Almost there."

With a final, primal scream, Cara pushes one last time, and the room is filled with the sound of a baby's first cry. Emily catches the baby, her hands gentle but firm as she cleans and swaddles the tiny, squirming bundle.

"You did it, Cara," Emily says, her voice choked with emotion. "You did it."

Cara's eyes fill with tears as she reaches out for our baby, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Emily places the newborn in her arms, and Cara looks down at our child, her face radiant with love and relief.

"June," she whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We have a daughter."

I lean down, pressing a kiss to Cara's forehead, my own tears blurring my vision. "She's perfect," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "Just like her mother."

The room is filled with a sense of profound peace and joy, the weight of our struggles and fears momentarily lifted by the miracle of new life. Judith and Emily step back, giving us a moment to ourselves, their faces soft with smiles.

I sit beside Cara, my heart swelling with love for the two most important people in my life. Our daughter nestles in Cara's arms, her tiny fingers curling around mine, her eyes blinking up at us with innocent curiosity.

"We did it," I whisper, my voice filled with awe. "We made it."

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