Page 56 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

“Baby number two is coming fast,” says the OB. The only thing that betrays her nerves is the set of her eyebrows. My guess is that they don’t have women rushing in to give birth to twins at the last fucking second. “I can see the head, Avery. Keep pushing—”

It’s bloody, it’s violent, it’s a miracle. My son is born to the sound of his sister’s raspy newborn cries. Another doctor is here—that’s who’s checking on the babies—and she sweeps away my son, my son, to suction his mouth and dry him off. Avery reaches out, pulling her hospital gown down to her waist to reveal her breasts. “Let me have them,” she insists. “I need to hold them.”

The nurses come to her, unwrapping the babies, settling them each against a breast as their little mouths root around for a nipple. It’s only then, watching Avery finally lay back, our babies safe in her arms, that it hits me.

They’re born.

They’re here.

Our children.

I reach up to my face and find it wet.

Avery leans down and kisses one fuzzy newborn head, then the other. Two bundles of pink, perfect skin and tiny mouths and eyes that search for her. They search for her. And they search for me. Nothing exists in the world except for Avery and the babies. Not the doctor working between her legs, not the nurse patting her knee, nothing. Nothing. She bows her head over them and gathers them in, and I will never, never let anything happen to them. They’re the world and my heart all at once. They’re everything.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

AVERY

Jennifer coosinto my daughter’s face, rocking her back and forth, and it’s such a pretty sight. The two of them bathed in morning light from the big window in my recovery room, Jennifer’s face serene. She’s got color back in her skin, and her hands are steady. Her eyes get misty, and she looks over at me. “Congratulations, Avery. She’s perfect. They’re both perfect.”

Rome lounges in the armchair—the one that can pull out to become the world’s most uncomfortable bed—with our son in his arms. He smiles at Jennifer’s compliment, but he doesn’t look away from the baby. Why would he? Our children are the most perfect things to grace the planet. I’ll never stop thinking that.

“Thanks, friend.” I reach for her and we squeeze hands. God, what a fucking ride. I’m so glad we all made it out alive.

A soft knock at the door, and Elliot comes in, wearing a fresh pressed shirt and a world-weary expression.

“Hi, guys.”

Rome still doesn’t look away from the baby.

Elliot steps closer, cautious, and looks down into our daughter’s face. It sounds so strange and so right to constantly think of our daughter and our son. No names yet. I’m still thinking.

“Wow,” Elliot whispers. It’s not lost on me that he was there at the most painful, most difficult moments of our lives. He’ll carry that with him just like we will. “Wow.”

But then he straightens up and goes back over to the counter with its sink and a sign that says Don’t drop—stop! And I know. I know he has bad news. I just don’t know what flavor the bad news is going to come in.

“Elliot.”

It looks like a struggle to meet my eyes.

“Just say it. Whatever it is you have to say.”

Jennifer comes to stand next to my bed. She must know how much I need my arms around my daughter right now. With the bundle in my arms, I feel stronger. Not a hundred percent yet, but I could be feeling a lot worse. The baby turns her face to my bare shoulder and roots. I unsnap the gown and let her nurse. She’s good at it, the little genius. And it feels good—albeit painful—to feed her.

“The paramedics arrived just after you left.”

“They were so close,” I answer, trying to keep my voice chipper. Because I already know. I know.I fucking know. “But they missed us anyway.”

Elliot takes in a breath. “They didn’t miss Nathan.”

Run. Get out. Go now.“What are you saying?”

He rubs a hand over his face. “He survived the gunshot wound, and he survived the subsequent surgery. I thought you should know.” My skin crawls. “He’s in a secure section of the hospital, Avery. He can’t move around.”

“He’s here!?” The baby fusses at my breast. She doesn’t like this, and I don’t either. I hate it. I hate it so much. My sense of relief shatters, and then the shards fall to the floor and crumble into dust. “We have to get out.”

Elliot raises his hands in front of him. “He’s in a medically induced coma under a twenty-four hour police guard. He cannot get to you. If you want us to station someone outside your room, too, that’s an option. Anything you want is an option.”

---