Of course he had. Sterling probably knew how to perform open-heart surgery with a pocket knife and dental floss too.
“I’m going to kill your brother,” I groaned through clenched teeth as another contraction rippled through me.
A ghost of a smile touched Sterling’s lips—so brief I might have imagined it. “I’ll help,” he promised, efficiently arranging pillows behind my back before moving to the foot of the bed.
He draped a sheet over my lower half, preserving what little modesty I had left. “I need to check how far along you are,” he explained, his voice taking on that neutral, professional tone I’d heard him use when discussing security measures or threat assessments.
I nodded, beyond caring at this point. The next contraction hit as Sterling checked me, and I arched off the bed with a cry that felt torn from the depths of my soul.
“Eight centimeters,” Sterling announced when I could focus again. “Moving fast.”
Terror and disbelief warred inside me. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not without Burke. Not without doctors or midwives or any of the medical support I’d counted on.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Sterling, I can’t.”
Sterling moved to the head of the bed, his eyes finding mine with surprising intensity. “Yes, you can,” he said, each word precise and weighted. “You are stronger than you know, Danny Jenkins. I’ve seen it. Burke sees it. And now you’re going to see it too.”
The fierce certainty in his voice shocked me. Sterling rarely said more than was absolutely necessary, and he never spoke in platitudes or false reassurances. If he said I could do this, he believed it.
And somehow, impossibly, that made me believe it too.
“Okay,” I whispered, nodding as I steeled myself for what was to come. “Okay.”
Sterling returned to the foot of the bed, rolling up his sleeves with military precision. “We’re going to do this together,” he said. “Just like the plan always was, except I’m standing in for my brother. He’s going to owe me big time for this.”
Despite everything—the pain, the fear, the utter surreality of having my alpha’s identical twin brother about to deliver our child—I found myself laughing weakly. “The biggest.”
Sterling nodded, satisfied, and began to prepare the bed with the same methodical efficiency he brought to everything. He folded towels at the foot of the bed, arranged pillows to supportmy back, and set a glass of water within easy reach on the nightstand.
Another contraction hit, stealing my breath and my laughter, reminding me with brutal force that this was really happening. Our baby was coming, ready or not. And Sterling Callahan—the most dangerous man I’d ever met, the darkness to Burke’s light—was the only one standing between me and doing this completely alone.
God help us all.
Another contraction tore through me, stealing my breath and bending me double against the pillows. I’d thought I understood pain before this—Dennis’s fists, broken ribs, the constant fear that had been my companion for so many years—but this was something else entirely.
This was my body splitting apart, tearing at the seams, demanding that I surrender completely to a process I couldn’t control. Through the haze of agony, I heard Sterling speaking, his voice steady and sure as he outlined what would happen next.
“I need to get more supplies,” he was saying, already moving toward the door. “Clean towels, hot water, something to tie off the cord.”
Panic surged through me, drowning out even the pain for a moment. I lunged forward, my hand shooting out to grab his arm with desperate strength.
“Don’t leave me,” I begged, my voice breaking on the words. I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again, even for a minute. Not now, not when each contraction felt like it might tear me apart completely.
Sterling froze, his eyes meeting mine with an expression I’d never seen on his face before—something almost like tenderness breaking through that carefully maintained neutrality.
“I won’t be long,” he said, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. He patted my arm awkwardly, the gesture somehow more touching for its clumsiness. “Just going to the kitchen and back. You’ve got this, Danny.”
I forced myself to release his arm, nodding shakily as I sank back against the pillows. “Hurry,” I whispered.
He moved with that silent efficiency of his, disappearing from the room like a shadow slipping away. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing in the momentary reprieve between contractions. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. I could do this. I had to do this.
The next contraction hit just as Sterling returned, arms laden with supplies. I cried out, clutching at the sheets as the pain crashed over me in waves.
“Good timing,” Sterling said dryly, setting his burden on the dresser. He’d gathered more towels, a large bowl of steaming water, shoelaces for some reason, and what looked like a first aid kit from under the bathroom sink.
“I set off a flare,” he added, moving back to the foot of the bed. “Standard emergency signal. If they’re anywhere in the north pasture, they’ll see it. They’ll be here soon.”
I nodded, too focused on breathing through the ebbing contraction to form words. Soon wasn’t soon enough, though. The baby was coming now, with or without Burke.
