As we turn the corner toward the emergency, I see the hospital entrance already swarming with bikers. They’re lined up along both sides of the driveway, creating a pathway like we’re some kind of royalty arriving for a state function.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, and this time the tears that fall aren’t from pain. They’re from something deeper, something that swells in my chest and threatens to overwhelm me completely.
Family.
This is what Hurricane meant when he talked about brotherhood. This is the legacy he’s left behind. It’s not just a motorcycle club, but a family that shows up when it matters most.
“Look at them, they all came,” Lani murmurs, her own voice thick with emotion. “They’re all here for you. For Hurricane. For the babies.”
Another contraction hits as we pull up to the entrance, and this one is fierce enough to steal my breath entirely. I grip Ingrid’s hand so tight I’m probably cutting off her circulation, but she doesn’t complain.
“That’s it, darling,” she murmurs. “You’re doing so good. Almost there.”
The car stops, and immediately, Bayou appears at my door, and for a moment, seeing him takes my breath away all over again.
God, they look so similar.
“Hey, Kaia,” he says softly, and his voice is so much like his brother’s that my heart clenches. “Ready to meet these little troublemakers?”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” I reply, managing a weak smile as he helps me out of the car.
A wheelchair appears by my side—someone must have called ahead—and as I lower myself into it, another contraction rolls through me. This one is so intense that I can’t hold back the sound that escapes, somewhere between a moan and a growl. “Fuck,” I pant, gripping the armrests. “They’re really doing this. Today.Right now?”
“Looks like Hurricane’s kids are as impatient as their daddy,” City says, appearing beside the wheelchair with that calm, steady presence he has always had as VP. But as the club’s new president, he’s been the rock keeping the club together since we lost Hurricane, and seeing him here grounds me somehow.
The bikers have formed two lines along the hospital corridor, creating a path to the elevators. As the wheelchair starts moving, I’m surrounded by faces I know and love. Grit nods at me with that serious expression he always wears. Hoodoo gives me a thumbs-up and a grin. Raid looks up from his phone long enough to mouth,You got this,before diving back into whatevertech emergency he’s handling. South dips his head with that deep understanding of grief that he knows all too well.
And then I see Bayou pushing a stroller with Immy inside, Izzy walking beside them. My three-year-old daughter waves at me with both hands, completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation.
“Mama,” she calls out. “Where are you going?”
“Remember how you asked if the babies are coming today, sweet g-girl,” I call back, my voice breaking slightly as another contraction hits. She nods, a hopeful look crossing her face. “Well, they’re coming right now. You stay with Uncle Bayou, okay?”
She jumps happily in the stroller, clapping her hands together as the nurse continues with me down the hall. The smiles and cheers of the brothers should ease my nerves, but as the nurse pushes me farther away from my family, away from the brotherhood supporting me, panic sets in. As we reach the elevator, I’m about ready to jump out of this damn wheelchair.
Because I’m about to do this, give birth to Hurricane’s twins, and he’s not here.
He isnevergoing to hold them.
He isnevergoing to see them take their first breaths.
He isnevergoing to make those terrible dad jokes that would have made them roll their eyes.
“Wait!” I call out suddenly, my voice echoing through the corridor.“Wait, stop!”
The nurse pushing my wheelchair pauses, looking concerned. “Is everything okay? Are you having another contraction?”
“No, I just…” I look back around at all these faces, all these people who loved Hurricane as much as I did, and realize I don’t want to do this alone.
Ican’tdo this alone.
My eyes find Ingrid, who’s standing back with Louis in her arms. This woman, who became Hurricane’s stepmother, who loved him like her own son, who is grieving just as much as I am.
“Ingrid,” I call out, desperation clear in my tone. “Will you… will you come in with me?Please?”
Her eyes immediately fill with tears, and for a moment, she looks so frail, so vulnerable, but then she nods, handing Louis off to South without a word.
“Of course, darling,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion as she steps off toward me like a mother on a mission. “Of course I will.”
