Page 59 of Lyon

“He knows,” Niki had told me last night, stroking Brutus’s thick fur as he rested his head in her lap. “Dogs always know. He’s already guarding the baby.”

I didn’t doubt it. That dog would give his life for her—and for Niki.

As we stepped outside this morning, Brutus padded after us, his watchful eyes scanning the yard. He wasn’t happy about being left behind but obeyed when Niki told him to stay.

I opened the car door for her. “Are you ready to see the first photo of our baby?”

Her entire face lit up. “I’m so excited. It’s too bad we won’t know what we’re having yet, but I don’t care. I just want to see her. To know she’s safe.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “I want to make sure both of you are safe.” I glanced at her as I pulled onto the road, hesitating before asking, “Do you still want to go to Vegas to get married?”

She was quiet for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “I think so…I don’t have the energy to plan a big wedding.”

I could see the wheels turning in her head before she spoke again.

“We could get married here,” she said thoughtfully. “Just our close friends and family. That would be simple, and it would make my parents happy. What do you think?”

I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. “That would be perfect. We stay home, our friends get to celebrate with us, and your mom gets to plan something without driving you crazy.” I smirked. “But what about all those FBI friends she has?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. We’ll send them a photo. They have enough on their plates. They’ll be happy with a picture.”

I chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

She leaned back in her seat, a small smile on her lips, her fingers absently tracing circles over her stomach.

I glanced at her, my chest tightening with something deep and unshakable.Love.For her. For the life we were building. For the tiny heartbeat we’d soon see on a screen.

No matter what happened, I would protect them.Both of them.

27

Niki

Today,we found out what we were having. The doctor used a 3D ultrasound, showing ushertiny face, her delicate hands curled into fists. We didn’t care whether it was a boy or a girl—we just wanted a healthy baby. But Oliver had already made up his mind.

A few days ago, he ordered the most beautiful crib, handcrafted by an artist who had never made one before. The craftsmanship was breathtaking—intricate details carved into the wood, delicate patterns woven into the design. But it wasn’t just the beauty of the crib that stole my breath.

It was the name on the headboard.

A name none of us had chosen.

A name that felt like it had been waiting for her all along.

Gracie Hope.

The moment I saw it, tears welled in my eyes.

Because somehow, it was perfect.

Because somehow, everyone already loved her.

She looked like she was smiling.

I glanced at Lyon, and the emotion on his face nearly undid me. If we weren’t in this room, if he weren’t trying to hold it together, I knew—he’d be bawling his eyes out.

His fingers reached toward the screen, barely brushing the image of our daughter.

“I love you, Gracie Hope,” he whispered. Then he turned to me, his lips pressing against mine in a lingering kiss.

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