The shift in cabin pressure was clearly confusing for Griffin.His wide eyes darted around, unsure what was happening, his tiny mouth working like he wanted to complain—but wasn’t quite there yet.
Azlyn knew what was coming.
“Make him cry,” she said.
The guard blinked at her like she’d just asked him to toss the baby out the window.
“I’m serious,” she added, leaning forward against the force of the plane’s climb.“Crying helps release the pressure in his ears.It’s biology.Make him cry.It’ll help.”
He looked down at the little bundle with mild horror, then gave Griffin’s thigh the gentlest pinch known to mankind.
Griffin let out a furious, betrayed shriek.
Azlyn’s heart twisted.She hated hearing him cry, hated that she couldn’t hold him, but she forced herself to stay still.This was for the best.Her arms ached for him anyway.
Zayn’s hand slipped onto her arm.“He’s safe,” he said softly.“Just give it a few more minutes.Once we level off, you can hold him.My pilot’s one of the best.”
Azlyn nodded, but her brain was already running a mile a minute.“I don’t have any diapers,” she said, rubbing her temple.“No formula.If he spits up, I don’t even have a change of clothes.”Her voice cracked a little.“I know I should be focused on the fact that we just escaped an actual shooting, and I am.Iam.But now that we’re not actively being shot at, I’ve moved on to logistical panic.”
Zayn smiled faintly.“All taken care of,” he assured her.“I had my assistant stock the plane with everything a baby might need.”
She stared at him, blinking.“Seriously?”
He squeezed her arm.“Seriously.I have nieces, nephews… and I was much older when my baby sister was born.I’ve changed a diaper or two.”
That mental image nearly broke her.The fierce, royal man in front of her had once been a teen big brother, dealing with blowouts and bottles.Her heart squeezed.“Okay,” she said softly.
Then another thought struck her.“Wait—was anyone hurt?I heard gunfire at the hotel.”
Zayn turned to the guard holding Griffin, who had been laser-focused on calming the baby, pretending to be deaf to the entire conversation.At Zayn’s glance, the man casually undid his seatbelt, unclipped the baby carrier like he was dismantling a grenade, and handed the still-screaming infant—not to hismother, but toZayn—then wordlessly exited the cabin.
Azlyn blinked.Okay.That was… surprisingly egalitarian of him.
But no.Her son was red-faced, furious, and in the arms of a man who had zero breasts.That wasn’t going to cut it.
She stood, ignoring her own seatbelt, and practically snatched Griffin from Zayn’s arms with a low growl.“Mommy’s got you,” she whispered, swaying and bouncing as only mothers can.
Then she turned and shot Zayn a look.“So?”
He blinked.“So…?”
“So?”she prompted, brow raised as she bounced and glared, bounced and glared.
Zayn sighed.“No, no one was hurt.”
She stopped bouncing for a second, her eyes narrowing.“No oneat all?Or no one onyourteam?”
He ran a hand through his thick hair, tension settling in his jaw.“No one on my team,” he admitted.
Griffin had stopped screaming, though his baby brow stayed furrowed in judgment.He was glaring at Zayn, as if filing away the betrayal for future therapy sessions.
Azlyn softened.“Thank you,” she murmured.“I appreciate you not lying to me.”
Zayn turned away.
“At least not about the gunfire,” he muttered.
Azlyn heard it.Loud and clear.
