Page 54 of Taken By The Wolves
When Scarlet stirs, murmuring, “You’re back,” Nixon leans in close to tell her, “The baby’s staying with us,” and her face goes from drowsy to elated in a second.
We climb the stairs as a family.
But right now, the only ones who are bonded are me and my brothers, and we’re running out of time to change that.
Her eyes drift to the bedroom door. “Let us show you what you mean to us... What you are to us.” Nixon bends to kiss her tenderly.
We can’t control how Scarlet feels about us, but we can give her all the best reasons to want to stay.
26
FINN
When the baby cries, Scarlet is off the bed in seconds. She grabs my shirt and pulls it over her head. I snag a pair of sleep shorts from the chair, tug them on, and follow her, my feet thudding against the wood floor.
Nixon and Reed are out cold, sprawled in the tangle of sheets, dead to the world after their long night of pursuing Aura and pleasuring Scarlet. They don’t stir as we slip out, and I don’t blame them.
The baby is squirming in her makeshift basket crib. Scarlet scoops her up, holding her against her chest, her lips already whispering soft shushing noises.
“I think she’s hungry again,” she murmurs, not quite looking at me, but rocking gently.
I peer at the squirming bundle, who kicks with surprising strength for someone so small. “Probably needs a diaper change, too.”
“Yeah. Of course.” Scarlet’s voice is low and a little unsure, but there’s a calmness about her that I appreciate. Ifshe were panicking, this whole situation would probably implode. We share a wide-eyed, amused, overwhelmed glance. Neither of us knows what the hell we’re doing. But there’s no panic. Just this strange, sweet willingness to try together.
“Let’s take her downstairs,” I say, tipping my chin toward the hall. “Leave the others to sleep. We’ll figure it out.”
Scarlet exhales, a puff of relief that makes me want to kiss her. Instead, I open the door and gesture for her to go first. She gives me a grateful look and pads barefoot down the stairs, cradling the baby like she’s made of spun sugar.
***
The kitchen is dim and quiet, the navy blue of the midnight sky pressing in through the windows. I flick on a small lamp above the stove while Scarlet settles onto the couch with the baby. I grab the emergency bag Goldie left behind, digging for supplies before I prepare a bottle.
“You’re getting good at that,” Scarlet says.
I glance over and smirk. “I’m a fast learner. Especially with a vocal teacher.”
She chuckles, and it cuts through the quiet. I want to hear that laugh again. And again. And the sighs she makes after she comes, when her body is as relaxed as it can be.
By the time I hand Scarlet the warm bottle, the baby’s fussing, but it quickly turns to eager sucking. Her cheeks puff and deflate with each determined pull, and Scarlet watches her like she’s witnessing a miracle.
“I thought about names earlier,” she says after a moment. “Before I fell asleep. I thought… maybe we should give her one.”
I settle beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah? Got onein mind?”
She watches the baby, who is going at the bottle like it’s her last meal. “Ahya,” she says softly. “It means miracle.”
Ahya.
It isn’t a name I’ve ever heard before, but it’s beautiful. I swallow the lump rising in my throat and nod slowly. “It fits.”
Scarlet’s smile is small, but radiant. “She survived the woods. Whatever that pack did to Aura… And whatever fate tried to do to her. She’s still here, alive and strong.” She pauses, stroking Ahya’s cheek.
I rest a hand on her thigh. “Doesn’t matter how she got here, or how little we know. She’s safe now. That’s what counts.”
The baby finishes the bottle with a triumphant gasp, then goes utterly still until a rumble rolls through her tiny body. The sound is both hilarious and horrifying.
Scarlet’s eyes go wide. “Oh god.”
