Iwas wiping down the bar when the door opened.
I didn’t look up right away. The Last Stand Tavern was quiet this early—just the low hum of the fridge, the smell of coffee, and the creak of old wood settling into the morning.
Then I felt it.
That strange, unmistakable awareness that someone important had just walked into my life again.
I looked up—and everything in me went still.
Laney.
The woman I’d spent one night with a year ago stood just inside the door, pale, tense—and holding a baby.
Our eyes locked.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then she took a step forward, and I saw her hands were shaking.
“Laney…” I set the rag down slowly. “I’ve tried to find you.”
She didn’t answer.
She crossed the room in quick, uneven steps and stopped in front of me.
“Saint,” she said, her voice breaking. “This is Emmy.”
She shifted the baby slightly, and the baby girl looked up at me.
Gray eyes.
My eyes.
My chest went hollow.
“She’s your daughter.”
The world tilted.
Sound cut out. Thought vanished.
All I could see was the tiny human in her arms—her impossibly small fingers, the soft curve of her cheek—and those eyes watching me like she already knew me.
“I need you to keep her safe,” Laney whispered.
I blinked. “What?”
“Take her. Please.” She held Emmy out toward me. “I don’t have time. He’s close.”
“Laney—what are you talking about?”
She pressed the baby into my arms before I could argue.
The weight of her—warm, real—hit me straight in the chest.
“Trigger!” I called hoarsely. “Cover the bar.”
He looked up, saw what I was holding, and froze.
