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“You’re not like Wicker,” she says, watching me closely. “You want to be a father, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Even if…” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, what if you find out it’s not yours?”

“Verity,” I whisper, mouth forming a tired grin. “Family isn’t DNA. There’s no circumstance in this world that would make Wicker and Pace anything less than my brothers, and there’s no universe where I’d see this baby as anything less than mine.” I stroke her cheek, the awe so big in my chest that it’s almost more than I can contain. “We created him, didn’t we?”

Her eyes glisten. “We did.”

“All of us.”

She nods, and for a moment, I think two people will never be as connected as we are now, contemplating the absolute fucking enormity of what we’ve made. She takes in a long, shuddering breath. “I want you to drug test—”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re going to talk to your brothers about this,” she stresses, glancing up in the corner. “No more secrets.”

“I will,” I assure.

“We’ll help you stay accountable.” Her hand rests on her stomach. “We need you. Not just me and the baby, but them, too. Especially after what we just went through.” When she pauses, I hear the unspoken words.

Especially for what we’ll have to go through.

I want to tell her about leaving, that we have a plan, and that I’d never abandon her in this wretched fucking basement a minute more than absolutely necessary. But Father’s eyes and ears are everywhere, and he can’t know. The plan is too fragile.

Feeling somehow both heavier and lighter, I begin gathering my things. “I need to head back up soon. Is there anything else you need?”

Her eyes track my movements. “Can I keep the Doppler? So I can listen to the baby’s heartbeat while I’m down here?”

My heart sinks at the hope in her eyes. “He never allows electronics down here,” I say, hating to snuff out the light in her eyes. But then, “Oh, wait. You can have this.” I reach into the supplies and grab the stethoscope. Carefully lifting her hair, I loop it around her neck. “It might take some time to find it with that.”

She glances around the cell, her grin bleak. “I have time.” Another pang shoots through my chest, and I shake out the blanket. “This is yours,” she notes as I tuck it around her.

“It’s clean.” The truth is, something in my chest unwinds at the sight of her wrapped up in it. “I’ll send Pace down as often as I can.” Sighing, I rub a temple. The withdrawal will start soon. “That is, if I can pull him away from Effie. He’s been obsessive—well,extraobsessive—since you got sent down here.”

She pulls the blanket up tight around her neck. “I guess that makes sense.”

Distractedly, I ask, “Why’s that?”

“Ashby—Father,” her face sours at the word, “he wanted Effie to punish Pace for killing Charlie.”

“He was going to take Effie away?” Slowly, it starts to connect. “He was going to kill her.” I look at her. “That’s why you stepped in. To save Effie.”

“Pace killed Charlie to protect me,” she says, the expression on her face somber yet knowing. “And she’s more than just a bird to him, isn’t she? She’s… she’s his heart.” Holding my eyes, her head tilts pensively. “It’s like he was afraid of having a soul, so he gave it to her to keep safe. Something untainted that would love him back.”

I crouch in front of her, stunned speechless. No one has ever understood that about Pace. In fact, I’m not even sure I fully did. Not until Verity gave it flesh. Springing forward, I press my mouth to hers. Not because of the wild, scratching need in my chest, but because she sees him, and how?

How can I not fall for someone who sees my brothers for what they really are?

Part of me wants to tell her that she’s right, but only partially. Whatever paltry thing Pace has granted to Effie, it pales in comparison to what he’s imparted to her.

But I have work to do. Pulling back, I mutter a curse. I realize now why Pace is so worried about Effie’s safety when we need to focus on getting ourselves out of East End in one piece. I can’t have him distracted right now. There are too many balls in the air.

Verity’s eyes flutter open, so soft and sad. “What?”

“You’re right,” I say, thumbing at her bottom lip as I pull away. “We’re going to have to find somewhere to keep her safe.”

“Actually…” Her green eyes blink, and suddenly, an arm appears from her blanket cocoon. “Can I see your notebook and pen?”