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I fumble the keys out of my pocket with shaking hands, my chest already tight with adrenaline.

“Buckle up,” I bark, jamming the key in the ignition. One hand on the wheel, the other still fighting with the buttons on my shirt, I gun it out of the driveway like I have the devil himself riding shotgun.

We don’t speak. Not a word.

Just the scream of the wind through the cracked window, the howl of the tires, and the distant strobe of red and blue lights bouncing off the sleeping streets as I tear across town like something unholy.

When we hit The Boxing Den, I don’t park—I land. Tires squeal. Gravel spit. The second the car jerks to a stop, I am out and moving, boots pounding up the steps and across the porch like gunfire.

My shirt flaps open as I shoulder through the front door, lungs burning, chest heaving.

“MADDOX!” I roar, voice ricocheting off the concrete walls. “Maddox, get your ass out here!”

They come from the back—him and Lucien—both shirtless, slick with sweat, looking like I’ve just interrupted the God damn apocalypse.

Maddox’s eyes lock on mine. “The fuck⁠—”

“No time,” I cut in, panting, grinning like a madman. “It’s go time, Daddy.”

No panic. No hesitation. He doesn’t even blink.

Just lets out a low, feral growl and storms past me, muttering, “She better not have my baby on that old crow’s fucking floor.”

Lucien lets out a low whistle behind me. “Shit just got real.”

Damn right it did.

I don’t even wait—I am already moving again, heart jackhammering, a wild grin stretching across my face as I chase Maddox back to the cruiser.

It is happening.

Baby girl is making her way into the world today.

Chapter Twenty-Six

GOT MILK?

LOUISIANA

I don’t know what the fuck happened.

One minute we’re sitting there at the kitchen table, laughing about how bad my tunnel vision is—Evie poking fun, Aunt Joe laughing and helping lay it on thick. The next, Evie’s going quiet. Real quiet.

Then she stands up so fast the chair screeches back. Her hand’s already on her belly, like her body knew before her mind did. And her eyes…shit, her eyes go wide, glassy. Not scared, not really. Just…alert. Like this is it.

I don’t remember getting in the car. Don’t remember grabbing her purse or buckling her in or flying down Main Street like a bat out of hell while my heart threatens to crack open my ribcage. All I remember is her voice—calm, grounding—cutting through the panic.

“Both of you,” she says, looking from me to Aunt Joe in the rearview, “take a fucking breath.”

By the time we pull up to the hospital entrance, Henry and Maddox are already there. Maddox doesn’t even close his door before he’s striding toward her, jaw tight, fists clenched.

Then he sees her.

I watch the shift happen—stone to something almost…broken. Not weak. Just real. The man bleeds panic without making a sound.

Evie reaches up, all grace and light, and presses her fingers to the scar on his lip like she’s reminding him of who he is. Who they are.

“Let’s go have this baby, big guy,” she whispers, eyes locked on his.