Raphael’s hand is clenched into a fist, but the tension in his body is lighter now. The shadows around his eyes seem softer. During the birth, he looked like he was ready to catch my soul if it left my body and shove it right back in.
Jude is still working while I cradle my daughter, our daughter, and I barely register the warm, slippery tug as he delivers the placenta. I don’t care. I can’t look away from her. Towels are dabbing her dry, and Jude covers us both, but she stays against me, skin to skin, my tiny miracle pressed to the wreckage of her mother.
She quiets completely now. Like she knows she’s home.
Except for Raphael, they all crowd in. Arguing gently, making promises, marveling like idiots.
“I get her next,” Seth says, shirt already off, hovering.
“Seth,” Raphael rebukes him, brows tapering as he shakes his head. “She will know her High Father’s heartbeat following Briella’s.”
“High Father?” Seth gives him a blank look.
“He means herDa,” Rory points out, gently cupping our daughter’s head.
Raphael sweeps his gaze across all of them. “Kinship Law. We, as one. We are all fathers now, providers, protectors, caretakers. But Rory is her High Father,Da. Then…her Father.” He indicates to himself.
“DaddySeth will be third,” Seth insists, elbowing Rory’s side.
“Papawill be third,” Vincent adds smoothly, lifting a finger in salute.
“Baba,” Jude claims, cleaning himself off with antiseptic wipes. His voice cuts through them all. “But no one holds her yet. She stays with her Mama for the first hour.”
I get her for one whole hour. I nudge her against my breast for the first time, pleased when she latches on without issue. I’m in more awe when she falls right to sleep while attached.
I can’t believe I’m thinking of more kids already. Jude. Jude will be next. Then, Seth. Three. Three is a perfect number.
My Kings all stare at me, reverently, in awe.
Me. Their Queen.
And now?
We have a princess.
Epilogue
BRIELLA
What Is Level 7?
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“This Is Your Sign”
“Worth It All”
“If I Surrender”
FOUR YEARS LATER
It’s Halloween.
I stand barefoot in the cool sand, inhaling the scent of salt and pine in one breath. The wind brushes my curls across my cheek while the October sun slants through the trees lining the rocky outcroppings above, golden and low. Long shadows dance across the beach. It’s warm for fall, just enough to roll our pants up and dig in the sand without freezing.
Raphael stands beside me, his hand lightly grazing mine, not quite holding it—just close enough to let me know he’s here.
He’s always here.
