The contraction fades. I calculate the likely interval before the next one.
Finn's hand tightens on my waist. The bond crystallizes his awareness. "Lila."
"Labor." I keep my voice matter-of-fact. "Early stage. Contractions are far apart."
"How far apart?"
"This was the first."
Moira appears at my elbow, her sea witch senses picking up the change in my body's rhythms. Her expression stays calm but focused. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable. Isla, with me. Eliza, we'll need hot water and clean towels."
"The cave." I push back from my chair, accepting Finn's immediate support when standing proves more difficult than anticipated. "Familiar territory. Safe."
"Agreed." Moira's already moving toward the door.
He lifts me before she finishes speaking. The bond carries what he's feeling. The razor edge between control and chaos. The need to protect warring with the knowledge that birth is dangerous and he can't fight this enemy.
The Brotherhood moves as one. Declan gives orders in the clipped tone that means crisis management. Grayson and Kian clear the path. Rafe melts into shadows ahead of us, scouting. Jax takes point position, lethal and efficient. All of them mobilizing to protect one of their own.
The trip back to the cave blurs into contractions that grow closer together with alarming speed. My mental timeline recalculates. First babies are supposed to take longer. This is not following expected progression.
Dragon babies, apparently, make their own rules.
Outside the cave, storm clouds gather. Not Finn's doing. Natural weather rolling in from the Atlantic with perfect timing. Thunder rumbles as we enter, and rain begins to fall in sheets that hammer stone.
Finn carries me to the bed and Moira takes over, checking vitals, timing contractions that now come fast enough to make breathing difficult.
"How long?" Finn's voice is controlled, but barely.
"Soon." Moira examines me with gentle hands. "Faster than human births. Dragon metabolism accelerates everything." She looks up at me. "The baby's in position. Her heartbeat is strong. You're doing well."
Another contraction hits. Harder. I breathe through it, cataloging the sensation even as pain makes thought difficult.
Finn experiencing every contraction is visible in the bond. His voice is rough when he touches my face. "How much longer." The words are a demand for data, not a question.
"Outside." Moira's tone is firm. "You're feeling what she's feeling. It's not helping either of you."
"I'm not leaving her."
"Finn." I catch his hand, squeeze hard enough to bruise. "Go. Let me focus without managing your panic too."
He flinches. Then nods once and stalks toward the entrance.
At the entrance to the cave, they gather. I feel them in Finn's awareness. Declan, Kian, Grayson, Rafe, Jax, all standing protective watch while I labor. The behavior is ancient, older than civilization. The alpha's pack protecting the newest member before she's even born.
The storm intensifies as labor progresses. Thunder vibrates through cave walls. Lightning illuminates the entrance in sharp flashes. Rain hammers stone with rhythm that matches contractions now coming one on top of another.
Moira talks me through each push, her voice steady. Isla supports my shoulders, murmuring encouragement. The bond with Finn is a live wire of sensation, his dragon roaring even though he stays outside the room.
Time loses meaning. There's only the work. The burning. The impossible pressure.
Then Moira says, "One more push."
I push.
The baby slides free in a rush of relief so intense I sob. Moira catches her, and the first sound my daughter makes is a wail that echoes off cave walls.
"She's perfect." Moira's voice breaks. "Lila, she's perfect."
