When I woke, Alec was still beneath me, embedded inside me, his body warm and solid in that familiar, grounding way. For a moment, I stayed still, suspended between sleep and awareness, listening to the slow, even rhythm of his breathing.
I lifted my head just as he set his phone down on the pillow beside us, the screen dark. His hand stayed on my waist, absent-minded, possessive without effort.
“How are you feeling?” he murmured, his voice low and unhurried.
“Better,” I said, smiling as I stretched, the ache in my back easing as I shifted.
“Rowan’s bringing your lunch up.”
My brows lifted despite myself. It wasn’t like Rowan to be in the kitchen for anything that didn’t require precision or intent.
When I tried to draw my knees up beneath me to sit upright, Alec’s arms tightened instantly, locking around my waist and pulling me back against his chest before I could get far. The movement was lazy but decisive.
“Just a little longer,” he sighed, his hand gliding slowly along my spine, thumb tracing the dip at my lower back.
I smiled and let myself settle again, rolling my hips back into him, feeling the way his breath caught as he groaned beneath me.
“You’re lucky you’re pregnant,” he growled playfully, nipping at my shoulder with just enough bite to make me shiver.
They thought they’d caged me.
Trapped me inside their kingdom, locked behind rules, routines and watchful eyes.
Yet here I was, unbroken and sitting comfortably on my throne.
Life had taught me to survive, but with them, I finally learned how to thrive.
My stomach fluttered.
The baby rested between us.
An anchor for us all.
Epilogue
Ella
They took turns cradling our son against their chests, each of them holding him with a reverence that blurred my vision every time I looked up. Hands that had once been cruel—unyielding, deliberate—were now impossibly gentle. Careful in a way that made my chest ache.
The birth had been private, the room arranged to accommodate all five of us. No interruptions. No witnesses. Just us, contained in that quiet, sacred space while something irrevocable changed shape.
Rowan and Alec had handled every detail between them, moving with the same seamless efficiency they always had.
“What about Elliot?” Nick whispered, glancing at me over the small bundle in his arms.
“Elliot from Ella,” Alec said thoughtfully, rubbing at his beard.
“I like it,” Rowan said quietly, already decided.
My lips trembled when Nick placed Elliot into my arms. The weight of him—warm, real, breathing—broke something open inside me. Tears spilled down my cheeks without warning.
It could have been the hormones. The medication. Or maybe it was the simple fact that they were honouring me in a way I had never expected—never experienced.
“I love it,” I whispered, so softly I didn’t think the words carried.
They did.
They gathered around us without being asked. Hands brushed my hair. A kiss pressed to my temple. Another to my shoulder. Comfort without ceremony.
