I gritted my teeth against the pain, jaw clenched, every muscle coiled. “Of course you matter. You’re the vessel carrying our child, aren’t you?”
The words hung in the air like poison.
Even I could hear the hollowness behind them. I tried to smile, to soften the blow, but it twisted on my face like a mask I couldn’t keep straight.
Scarlett’s eyes widened—her disbelief cutting sharper than any blade. “Vessel?” she whispered, the word like a wound.
Another contraction hit her like a wave. She gasped, voice breaking. “Please… we need a nurse. A doctor—someone.”
“I’ll deliver the baby,” I snapped, too quickly, too proud.
Her voice trembled. “Do you even know how?”
“Yes,” I lied. “I know exactly what to do.”
I had no idea what I was doing.
But this child was mine.
And I would bring it into the world with my own hands—no matter the cost.
As the hours passed, I watched Scarlett’s face contort with each contraction, her brow slick with sweat, her jaw clenched tight. She gripped my hand like a vice, her damp palm in mine. The room was suffocating—thick with the scent of blood, breath, and fear.
Then, finally, it happened.
A beam of light from the window flickered across Scarlett’s skin as she let out a guttural cry and pushed with every ounce of strength left in her battered body. I saw the crown of a tiny head, then limbs, slick and flailing, sliding into the world.
My heart thundered. Awe and terror warred inside me as I reached down and caught the child in my hands.
Around the infant’s neck shimmered a delicate chain, etched with the unmistakable insignia of the Timebound.
I forced my gaze away. Now wasn’t the time.
Because Scarlett was bleeding fast. Too fast.
“Balthazar!” she gasped, her voice barely more than a rasp. “I need a hospital. I need help now!”
Panic slammed into me.
Without a word, I summoned a storm—dark, howling, and alive.Thunder cracked as a swirling void wrapped around us and ripped us through time and space.
Scarlett screamed, cradling the baby to her chest. “What’s happening?”
“Shh.” I held her close. “It’s nothing you’ll remember.”
Wind whipped around us as we crash-landed inside a sterile hospital hallway, the fluorescent lights blinking like we’d disrupted reality itself. Scarlett clung to me, pale and weak.
“Promise me…” she whispered, her lips barely moving. “Promise me you’ll name him Tristan. After my grandfather.”
My breath hitched. “Don’t say that. You’re talking like you’re going to?—”
“I might not,” she murmured. Her skin had gone ghost-white, her eyes fluttering like dying candlelight.
“No.” The word tore from my throat, clenched between my teeth. “You’re going to live, Scarlett. I won’t let death touch you. Not today.”
I insisted on following her into the emergency room, looming protectively, clutching our newborn as if sheer will could hold her to this world.
“You’re going to make it,” I said, more to myself than her. “The doctors will take good care of you.”
