And then…
Seth wheels something into the room, carefully maneuvering through the hall like it’s made of spun sugar.
My mind reels. My heart stutters.
I can’t breathe.
It feels like the whole world tilted off its axis.
It’s…acradle. A hand-carved, burnished-wood cradle, shaped like a blooming flower, with twisted chains climbing its legs and crowns etched across the curved headboard.
“What is—what’s happening here?” A fractured sound leaves my throat, like thawing ice. I blink at the cradle, then at the faces around me, one by one. “I—what is this?”
Jude’s knuckles brush my cheek, so tender it almost undoes me. He cups my chin, guiding my gaze to his.
“Briella, after the re-initiation, I had my suspicions,” he murmurs. “Your appetite, the nausea…you were exhausted. Mood swings, Babydoll. At first, I thought it was just you adjusting to the highs and lows of this place, but?—”
“Jude.” I cover my mouth as the tears surge up too fast to stop. “Are you—are you telling me…?”
He nods slowly, brushing his thumb over my jaw. I sob against my hand. My body trembles with the cries.
Rory, grinning like the mad bastard he is, steps forward and peels a cupcake in half. Pink and blue M&Ms spill out into my lap, bouncing against the fabric of Jude’s shirt, the couch, the cane still cradled in my hand.
I clutch my throat. The sob of unbelief and denial comes out strangled, shattered by something so big, so beautiful, and impossible, I can’t hold it inside anymore. “But how could—the tubal?—?”
“They can grow back.” Jude kisses my temple warmly, eyes polished. “Theydidgrow back. You’re almost two months along now.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence.
Rory crosses his arms with smug satisfaction, his fingers tucked into his armpits. “It’s mine, Lass.”
Jude snorts. “It could be mine. Or Seth’s, Rory.”
Rory waves him off. “Nah, Firecracker and I fucked like rabbits that night. Gotta be me. Aye, a mini Rory in that pretty belly for sure. Why do ye think she’s attacking me all the time?”
Heat scalds my cheeks, my body flushed. He’s not wrong.
Seth pipes up, grinning, “You’ve got a one in three shot, Red.”
“One in three?” I search each face. “Who…can’t?—?”
My gaze meets Raphael’s.
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches me like I’m something holy and haunted all at once. “No children.” Firm but somehow soft. “Never for me. I made sure of it at eighteen.”
And still—still he looks at me like I carry his soul inside me anyway.
A Kinship soul.
“Vincent…” I nearly choke on my tears.
He gets up from his chair and moves toward me, calm and gentle, kneeling before me like I’m something to be worshipped and held steady. He lays a warm hand on my knee.
“I love you, Bri. And it’s okay. Took too many blows in my fighting days. But you know how busy the animals keep me. And Pew Pew…”
I smile, agreeing. “He’sourbaby, Vinny. They’re all our babies.”
Seth leans against the cradle, beaming. Rory pops a blue M&M into his mouth like a toast. A symbolic prediction.
