Isa looked up to manage a wobbly smile, wiping at her tears. “My baby chose me for this, right? That’s what Ada said.” “No one can mother our babies better than we can,” I agreed. “He was meant for you and you were meant for him. And the day your eyes meet, he’ll start proving that to you.”

“When he’s here, it’ll make more sense,” I promised. “Protecting him while he’s little won’t seem nearly as overwhelming as it does now, and your instincts will only grow as he does. Dima will be there to catch anything you may miss. To build you up whenever you start to feel like you’re weakening.”

“These fears are part of what makes a great mother,” I whispered soothingly. “But if you want the truth—you can’t protect him from everything forever. None of us can, and we’re not meant to. Our job isn’t to always hold their hand, but to always be there when they reach for us.”

Her tears were instant. “What if I can’t do it?” she sobbed. “What if I don’t do a good enough job looking out for danger? I can’t…I can’t see everything, I can’t stop everything, and I—I can’t let the world just…”

“And he’s not safe and sound in here anymore?” I finished, patting her hand atop her bump. “It’s the worst part—being forced to strip him of that protection. Having to figure out how in the world you’re going to protect him now that it’s not automatic.”

Isa stopped walking, sniffling, holding her belly as it shifted with her baby’s movements. “Obviously I’m scared about the birth and what can go wrong,” she said, as I bit my tongue to keep from interrupting. “But I’m almost more scared of…of 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 he’s born, and…”

Isa’s eyes welled up as I gestured to her belly. “Might be the only one I ever get,” I whispered, smiling when she laughed tearfully. “I’m 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥,” she whispered when she stopped, some kind of mental wall having crumbled. “I feel like…”

“Well,” I said to spare her from having to find words for the rest of her question, “I do still owe you a great deal. But, more importantly, Dima has been another son to me since the day he was born. I think of him as one of mine. I think of you as one of mine. And this one, too.”

We walked in silence for a little while as Isa stewed on something. Then, all at once, she blurted, “Why have you done so much for me? And the baby? We’re not…he’s not—”

Finally, she cracked a smile. Called out to Zak to tell him where she was going, stepped into the nearest, most cushioned pair of shoes, and stepped outside with me. It was cold out, but even so, the sunshine would do wonders for her mood. Even more so postpartum than now.

“Hi, honey,” I greeted when she yanked the door open, eyes narrowed like she’d expected a shift change. “Wanna go for a walk?” “I might go into labor,” she said flatly. “You won’t,” I said. “We all hope it’ll work. But it never does.”

I didn’t bother telling him that it was his presence alone that was the problem. The constant babysitters, the wondering stares, the playful questions of, “Oh, still pregnant?”

In the final weeks of Isa’s pregnancy, her agitation was more than noticeable. She was short-tempered and grumpy in a way she never had been before. Restless and unsettled. It made Zakary such a nervous wreck that he’d had to ask for help, because no matter what he did, it made Isa’s mood worse.

alright i’m still alive let’s hit it

“If anything crazy happens, someone can call Jula and have her dismantle my shield. She can drain all my magic if that’s what it takes. Whatever we have to do for you and our little boy to be safe and healthy.”

Isa drew in a deep breath, but it was wobbly. Doubt had officially been introduced to her mind, and this late in the pregnancy, it would probably only get worse.

Isa’s eyes were wide with concern when she turned them up at Dima. “That’s only specific to you, right? And you…you can control it enough that…” “I’m pretty sure it’s exclusive to me,” he soothed. “And while I might suck at magic, I’m not going to keep your birth team away when you need them.”

“He means my shield,” Dima sighed. He’d been trying not to bring it up, but there was no going back now. “It manifested when my mom went into labor. Trapped her in our house with only Aunt Sine there to help for most of it—my dad barely made it.”

Dima watched his father’s eyes sparkle as he looked at Isa’s belly. “As long as that’s the only way he mimics Dima’s birth, I think you’ll be set.” Isa cocked her head. “What do you mean? Did Larissa have a bad time?”

Dima put an arm around Isa and pressed a kiss to her head, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. Bizarre as his timing may have been, the gesture was still kind. And somehow eye-opening—they really were in the home stretch of the pregnancy. Their son could be born at any time.

“Dima was early,” he mused, drying his hands as he did so. “I figured if I wanted to help you get some tidying done I would have to time it carefully.” “I was early too,” Isa said, one hand to her belly. “And Vincent. So maybe he really will be.”

“Zak?” Isa peeped from behind him, where she was peeking out the cracked door. To her phone, she said, “It’s okay, Papa, it’s only Zak. You don’t need to come.” “Sorry, Isa,” Zakary said, “the last thing I wanted was to scare you. I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“Because you’re here scaring my wife in the dead of night!” Dima snapped. “What are you doing?!” “I’m cleaning up!” Zakary said, gesturing around. “Trying to take some off your plate!” “You couldn’t do it in the daylight?!”

Dima was not surprised at what he found when he slipped through the door. Not even a little. “Dad,” he deadpanned. “Do you know what time it is?” “Why are you awake?” Zakary whispered back without pausing his dancing at the sink.

Definitely not cat sounds. And Lucian and Lacie wouldn’t be here—not at one in the morning, and not without warning. Isa startled too easily for them to try such a thing.

Dima got out of bed as Isa slid off her side onto the floor, reaching up to find her phone beneath her pillow as Dima tiptoed across the room. Now that he listened, he could hear what sounded like water running. The rattle of dishes. A scratching against the floor.

“Someone is in our house,” Isa insisted, curling up as much as she could around her belly. “You’re sure it’s not Elisabeth?” “I know the difference between people feet and cat feet!” “Okay, okay! I’m going—stay in here and call your parents just in case.”

Dima gasped awake, sitting straight up, one hand flying to Isa’s belly to verify that it was still there. “What? Baby? Labor? Cramp?” “No,” she hissed. “I hear something. Out there.” Dima blinked slowly, following her point to their closed bedroom door. “What?”

“Dima.” “𝘋𝘪𝘮𝘢.” “Dima, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦—”

FREEEE! :D

“What’s your deadlift?” Harlow blurted before Áine got back into the elevator. “Over one-eighty?” Áine grinned slowly. “Two-ten.” “Bull𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵.” “I’ll text you tomorrow,” Áine said. “Prove it to ya.”

Finally, a smile. “I like that.” Elian smiled right back. “Good. We got this.”

“Men will always feel tempted to challenge us,” Elian said as they looked at the stubborn pout of Áine’s lips. “So it’s important to do everything we can to remind them that they’re beneath us for a reason. They wouldn’t try so hard to drag us down if we didn’t pose such a threat.”

“You’re selling the crypto,” Elian added, back at her desk. “Use the payout to buy a new house. You don’t need to live somewhere everyone else is used to having access to.” “Maybe get a dog,” Harlow suggested.

“She’ll make the mess make sense,” Harlow promised. “You and I will make sure you have a better foundation to stand on than either of the men in your family ever did. I just need to know you’re willing to do what it takes to let a bunch of men in the business of guns know not to fuck with you.”

“Bring me every piece of paper you weren’t supposed to look at while your brother was in charge,” she said brightly. “Literally any documents you can get your hands on. Especially financial ones.” “Oh,” Áine blinked hard. “Okay. Yeah—I can do that.”

Harlow rammed an elbow into Elian’s ribs. “All the more reason to help out, right?” she asked through her teeth. Elian frowned, but wiped it off her face in the next second, reaching to help Áine up from the puddle Decoy had assimilated her into.

Decoy extricated himself from Elian’s arms and trotted over to introduce himself to Áine, licking every inch of her hands as Harlow told Elian most of what Áine had told her. “Áine Thomas?” Elian repeated in a whisper too low for anyone but Harlow to hear. “She’s mafia—”

Harlow beckoned Áine to follow her across the office, knocking her knuckle once against the window before cracking the door to Elian’s. “Are you busy?” “I’m always busy,” Elian said, despite holding Decoy in her lap. “What’s up?”

“I can help you on the face of things,” Harlow said, drumming her fingers against her desk. “And in the dirt. But numbers? Staffing? Administrative shit? I don’t do that. Do you do that?” Áine grimaced.

Harlow sucked her teeth and put the thought aside for later, when she called to cuss him out. “You just need help getting started?” she asked. "Finding your footing?" “Yeah,” Áine sighed. “If I’d taken over from the start it would be different, but everything’s a mess. I don’t even know how big.”

But still. When had he gotten the idea she worked for him?

Deep down, Harlow was pleased with Jared’s decision not to make Áine his personal project. She’d spent long enough being pushed around by men—having to look to another for guidance wasn’t going to establish her as an effective leader. Her people would never take her seriously.

“So…will you help me?” Áine Thomas asked, looking like she hated to do it, eyes betraying how badly she needed Harlow to say yes. She’d bought herself some brownie points by not asking if Harlow 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. Only if she would.

The young woman seated across from Harlow had been talking for almost fifteen minutes. Fifteen full minutes of background and exposition, and Harlow 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 had no idea why she was here. She couldn’t for the life of her remember deciding to become a consultant.

Eileithyia smiled. “She’s going to blossom in motherhood,” she said fondly. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Eileithyia nodded. “I promise I will. Once the baby is born, I’ll apologize. She won’t want to hear it before then.” “Probably not,” I chuckled. “But your actions beforehand will prove you mean it. Until then, we’re agreed. We’re her cheerleaders only from here on out.”

“So, from now on, I think we’ve gone over all the risks and worries. She'll decide with Dima on birth plan. For all the rest of her appointments, I want you to treat her as you would any other patient, okay? Focus on the beauty of what her body is doing.”

Eileithyia looked beyond troubled. “I assumed she was experiencing the joys of it at home—” “The other occults are worried the same way we are,” I reminded her. “There is no break for Isa. This is all it has been.”

“This is her first baby. Her first pregnancy,” I reminded her. “We’ve been taking up so much of her time, asking and demanding and speculating, and now this is all she knows of pregnancy. That’s horrific, isn’t it?”