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When Verity collapses, fatigue warring with determination in her eyes, I urge, “Breathe,” and watch her chest expand and contract. Reaching down, I enter her with two fingers, feeling our son, stretching her out to help keep her from tearing. “He’s close,” I say, glancing at the guys.

The air around Pace seems to hum with eagerness as he smooths her hair back, grinning. “Hear that, Rosi? Not much longer now.”

Wicker just looks fucking terrified. “Should she push?”

I nod. “Push again when you’re ready.”

I don’t hear the approaching footsteps, but I do hear Agent Knight’s abrupt, commanding voice ringing out from the doorway. “Where thehelldid the other two Ashbys come from?” My jaw tightens as I see a tight fist grabbing Pace by the neck of his shirt. “How did the two of you get in here? You can’t be?—”

There’s a flurry of motion that I’m too distracted to see the progression of, but by the time I look up, Pauly’s got Agent Knight pushed up against the wall, his tattooed forearm pushing hard against his throat. “Do not,” he growls, teeth bared, “fucking touch him.”

Knight glares back. “This is an active crime scene.”

“Look around you, little piggy.” Pauly backs off with a hard shove, standing between Knight and Pace. “This has fuck-all to do with you.”

The air around us trembles with the strength of Verity’s sudden roar. “Get out!” The bellow rides the crest of another deep, clenching contraction, and she follows it with a push, face twisting with the effort.

The agent, rightly, turns on his heel, muttering, “Stubborn East End bullshit,” before shutting the door.

“Breathe!” I say, watching her suck in a hard breath. I glance down, and then nod rapidly at Verity. “He’s crowning. This is the hardest part, baby. I want you to build your strength up for a bit, okay?”

“I’m scared.” She exhales. “It hurts.”

“There’s no going back now. Look at me, you’ve got to push through the pain because on the other side of that is relief and our baby.” She nods. “Try not to tense up, okay?”

When she obeys, I don’t see the fatigue anymore. I see eyes filled with fire and steel resolve, and when the next push comes, it’s with a strength I wouldn’t believe her capable of. Here she is, this little slip of a girl, tendons popping, eyes squinching, mouth pulled into a grimace, and she’sgiving life.

Even if all my plans had fallen into place—my training, the fancy instruments, and diagnostics—it wouldn’t matter.

I have no power here.

Mama B spurs her on as the head emerges. “That’s right, Ver Bear, you’ve got it.”

“One more push,” I tell her, reaching down to hold his head, keeping his airway clear, and checking to make sure the umbilical cord isn’t wrapped around his neck. “One more good push, baby, and it’s over. Can you give me one more?”

Against my arms, her thighs are quivering, and she releases a loud, wet sob. But when I look up, she’s bracing against Pace, sucking in a deep, deliberate breath.

Her final push is pure resilience, body shaking with the force of it. The room seems to hold its breath with her, listening as she grinds out another cry of raw fury.

I jolt forward when he emerges, gathering him close to flip him. Using my fingers, I clean the mucus and blood from his mouth and nose. He’s flushed a light purple, skin wrinkled and slick, and my heart skips when he doesn’t immediately begin breathing.

Frantically, I begin rubbing his back. “Come on, little guy. Let’s see it.”

Suddenly, he begins squirming.

“When he hears your voice, he squirms around, like he’s turning, searching…”

His first breath is this tiny, quivering thing, released in a cry just as raw with fury as his mother’s had been seconds ago. My vision swims as I take him in, and for a long moment, it hurts to breathe. He’s so small—so unbelievably fragile—and we made him with our bodies, with our minds, with our hearts.

In two-hundred and sixty-four days.

It’s only when I look up at Verity’s anxious face that I feel the heat of tears in my eyes. Gruffly, I assure, “He’s good,” before carefully laying him on her belly. “And you’re a fucking goddess.”

The cord is still attached, and the afterbirth will come, but the sound of sirens seems like they’re getting closer. Which is good, because at this moment, I seriously doubt my ability to function.

I’m too busy watching my family.

Verity releases a ragged gasp as she touches him for the first time, her wet eyes filled with awe and joy. His tiny body, warm and damp, settles instinctively against her skin, and she instantly gathers him closer, fingers grasping against his delicateskin. “Hey, Justice James,” she sobs, voice trembling with emotion.