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Wicker reaches up to swipe a tear away. “James,” he says, cupping my cheek. “Like Stella St. James. So she can still be here with you.”

The grief is like a punch to my heart, but more than that is the thought of it. She’d be right beside me wearing her pigtails and bright smile, rattling off some random bit of information that would completely distract me from what’s about to happen. I worry for a second that the sadness is going to overtake me, but it doesn’t.

Stella would tell me to be strong, like a Princess. Like Pace’s mom. Like Miranda. Like all those women we found in the solarium.

Strong, like a Monarch.

“I love you,” I tell Wicker, and his shoulders sag suddenly, forehead dipping to rest against mine.

“I love you too, Red.” His voice is quiet and ragged, like he’s giving away something much scarier than words. I don’t need to wonder how many times he’s said that to someone who wasn’t one of his brothers.

When he pulls back, I shift my gaze to Pace. “And I love you. All of you.” It’s easy to sink into the peace of that because maybe the situation is wrong, but that?

That suddenly makes it more right than anything’s ever felt.

Building my strength, I lever up on my elbows, breathing deep. “I need to push now.”

Wicker sputters, but keeps his grip on my hand. “Lex said to wait, can you do that?” I’m not sure I can but then he adds, “We’re right here with you, Red. Deep breaths, just like we practiced.”

“We’ve got this,” Pace says, kneeling between my parted thighs. He looks scared and nervous, his dark eyes a touch wild, but there’s also a spark of confidence there. “Justice doesn’t come without a little pain, right?”

24

Lex

I’ll goto the grave with this fact, but I’m not as good a climber as Pace.

This becomes increasingly maddening as I struggle to scale the back of the building, wondering how the fuck he managed to catch a toehold over the window to reach the metal ladder next to it. It doesn’t help that hot, rushing panic is coursing through my veins, and the only thought that registers is that Verity is in there—rightthere—giving birth to our baby.

Without me.

The back lot is overgrown with things that must have been weeds at one point but are now approaching stalk status, which is good. It gives me a little bit of cover. Thankfully, Knight’s little goon crew is too busy with the PNZ procession that met me at the barricade to notice my piss-poor impression of Spiderman. Even halfway up to the roof, I can still hear Tommy out front, ranting, “This is a witchhunt! Do you know who my father is? Do you know what he’ll do when he finds out what you’ve done?”

Who knew his obnoxious assholery would actually be an asset?

Grunting, I strain for the ladder, realizing that Pace probably made a jump for it.Fucking psycho. Taking a deep breath—needs must—I plant my toes into the brick ledge, flex my knees, and leap.

I catch the bottom of the ladder with one hand, thrusting the other out to pull myself up.

Riiiiip.

Jerking, I look over to see the neck of my shirt caught on a broken piece of metal. “Son of a…” With a huff, I duck my head through the neckhole, thrashing until I can pull my arms from the sleeves.

I don’t give myself time to rest, the air cool against my sweaty, bare back as I scurry up the ladder the rest of the way to the roof. It’s just like Pace described it, lush with plants and flowers, but I barely register it, spotting the hatch.

As soon as I open it, my stomach sinks.

“Fuuuck!” comes a ragged, distant voice that I’d know anywhere.

The rickety ladder beneath me clatters noisily as I dart down the length of it, surprised to find Mama B waiting for me at the bottom.

“Finally,” she hisses, glancing out the door. “Two more minutes and they were going to insist on taking her out front to meet the ambulance on the other side of the barricade, and she’s made it clear to everyone that she’s not going anywhere without you.”

I peek around her, feeling sweaty and borderline crazed as I watch Agent Knight in a standoff with Lavinia Lucia. “What the hell is taking so long?!” she shouts. “If you’re holding back the EMS team because you’re being a petty bit?—”

“Watch it, Ms. Lucia,” he growls. “I’ve got another pair of handcuffs.” She steps back, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re not doing anything. It’s an absolute clusterfuck out there.”

“Whose fault is that?”