"I don't know." She looked down at her hands. "Relieved? He's dead." She touched her stomach. "He's gone. I should be happy."
"But you're not," I said.
"I'm numb. I watched you kill him and I felt nothing." She looked toward the ceiling, and then back at us. "Is that wrong? Does that make me a monster?"
"No." Kira squeezed her hand. "It makes you human. You've been through trauma. Your brain is protecting you."
"I'm pregnant." Naomi said it like she was testing the words. "There's a baby growing inside me and I didn't even know until a psychopath told me this afternoon."
"We didn't know for sure either," Kellan said gently. "It's so early that even we could barely scent it. Another few days and we would have told you."
"We were going to tell you the moment we were certain." I moved closer, crouching beside the bed so I was at her eye level. "Naomi, we would never keep something like that from you."
"I'm so tired of people trying to protect me by keeping me in the dark." She pulled her hand away from Kira. "My adoptive mother never told me the truth because she was trying to protect me. You two didn't tell me who I was because you thought I couldn't handle it." Her voice rose. "When do I get to decide what I can handle? When do I get to have all the information and make my own choices?"
"Now," I said simply. "Right now. Ask us anything. We'll tell you everything."
She was quiet for a long moment. "Do you love me?"
The question hung in the air. Both of us were taken back by the turn of events.
"Yes," I said. "I love you since I first scented you. Even as a child, I’d never smelled anything as wonderful as you. I swore then that I’d always protect you. When you were kidnapped, it tore me apart. The moment you walked into Obsidian and told us no, it rekindled that fire. I was afraid that it wasn’t you, but the heart knows it all."
"I love you too," Kellan added. "And I'm terrified every single day that you're going to realize you deserve better than two Alphas who couldn't protect you all those years ago."
"You were children yourselves," she said quietly.
"That changed nothing." Kellan sat on the other side of the bed. "We found our warrior. A woman who'd survived things that would have broken most people. Who'd built a life and a purpose out of nothing. Who was stronger than either of us expected."
"Kellan..."
"He’s right." I took her hand carefully. "And yes, you're pregnant. Which means you have choices to make."
"I do." A tear slid down her cheek and I wiped it away with my thumb.
"Whether you want to bond with us. Whether you want to stay or go back to building your own life." I forced myself to say the next words even though they felt like ripping out my own heart. "We'll support whatever you choose. Even if that choice doesn't include us. But we want you, need you, and losing you would destroy us."
"You'd really let me go? Pregnant with your child?"
"If that's what you needed, yes." Anxiety ricocheted in my chest.
"Even then. Because you're more than our mate, Naomi. You're your own person. With your own dreams and goals and life. And we won't trap you in a bond you don't want."
Tears were streaming down her face now. "What if I do want it?”
"Then we take it slow," Kellan said. "As slow as you need. We court you properly. We prove to you every day that we're not going to hurt you, try to control you, or take away your choices."
"How can it be my choice when it's your baby too?"
"Because you're the one carrying it. You're the one whose body will change. Whose life will be upended." I squeezed her hand gently. "We'll have opinions. We'll want to be involved. But at the end of the day, it's your body. Your choice."
She looked between us, searching our faces for—what? Deception? Manipulation?
Whatever she was looking for, she must not have found it because she sagged against the pillows.
"I want to keep the baby," she touched her stomach. "I want this. I want us. I want to build something good out of all this trauma. I want to give this child everything I never had. Safety. Truth. Love."
"Then we'll help you do that," I promised.
