Page 27 of Claimed By the Bikers (Black Wolves MC #4)
EMBER
Nausea hits me before I’m fully awake. It’s rolling through my stomach like a wave I can’t escape. I make it to the bathroom just in time, retching into the toilet while Garrett’s voice calls from the bedroom.
“You alright, lass?”
“Fine,” I manage between heaves. “Just need a minute.”
But I’m not fine, and we both know it. This is maybe the sixth morning in a row I’ve been sick, and no amount of telling myself it’s stress is going to make it true anymore.
When the worst passes, I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Pale skin, dark circles under my eyes.
I know what this is. I’ve known for days, maybe weeks, but I haven’t been ready to admit it.
The last time I felt like this, I was nineteen years old and terrified.
College sophomore, dating a boy from my criminal justice class who thought he was going to be the next great FBI profiler.
Aaron had ambition and confidence and absolutely no interest in anything that might derail his career trajectory.
I was three weeks late when I finally bought the pregnancy test.
The test was negative, but those twenty minutes waiting for the result were the longest of my life. I sat on my dorm room floor, staring at that plastic stick and trying to imagine what I’d do if it showed two lines instead of one.
Tell Aaron? He’d probably suggest an abortion and offer to split the cost. Tell my mother? She was already working two jobs to keep me in school. The last thing she needed was her daughter getting pregnant and throwing away every opportunity she’d worked so hard to provide.
When that single line appeared, I cried with relief. Then I broke up with Aaron the next day.
The memory fades as Garrett appears in the bathroom doorway. “Ember, what’s going on? You’ve been sick every morning for days.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“It’s just stress—”
“It’s not stress.” His voice is gentle but firm. “And we both know it.”
I look at him. “I need to go into town.”
“For what?”
“Lady stuff. For my period.”
“It came?” he asks, surprised.
“Not yet, but it will soon. I ran out of tampons.”
He studies my face for a long moment. “Want me to drive you?”
“No.”
“Ember—”
“Please, Garrett. I just want to get tampons. By myself. Can I do that? Please.”
He nods reluctantly. “Take the truck. And call if you need anything.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m inside Murphy’s Super Stores, wandering the aisles aimlessly, pretending to browse vitamins and shampoo while working up the courage to approach the family planning section.
When I finally grab a pregnancy test from the shelf, I feel like everyone in the store is watching me.
“Did you get everything you need?” the clerk asks when I approach the counter.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She’s maybe sixty, with kind eyes and gray hair.
“You okay, honey? You look a little pale.”
“Just tired.”
She nods knowingly as she rings up my purchase. “Early pregnancy can do that to you. Make sure you’re taking your vitamins.”
My face burns as I hand over cash. “I don’t know if I’m—”
“Honey, I’ve been working this counter for thirty years. I can spot a nervous expectant mother from across the room.” She puts the test in a discreet brown bag. “Whatever that little stick tells you, you’re going to be fine.”
When I return to Wolf’s Den, I park behind the restaurant and sit in the truck for several minutes, staring at the brown bag. Inside, I can hear the familiar sounds of lunch prep while I sit here trying to work up the courage to find out if everything’s about to change.
Finally, I force myself out of the truck and into the restaurant. The smell of cooking food makes my stomach roll again, and I have to grip the doorframe to steady myself.
“There you are,” Atlas calls from behind the bar. “How’d the run to the store go?”
“Fine. Got what I needed.”
“Which was?”
“Personal stuff.”
I make it to the upstairs bathroom without anyone following me, locking the door and leaning against it while my heart pounds.
Three minutes. That’s how long I have to wait for my life to either stay the same or change completely.
I sit on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the plastic stick on the counter, and think about everything that’s happened in the past few months.
What would nineteen-year-old me think about this situation? Pregnant by men I’m not married to, living in a compound, and stepping on the badge I worked so hard to get.
She’d probably be terrified. She believed in following rules, making safe choices, and building a respectable life that wouldn’t disappoint anyone.
The timer on my phone goes off, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I stand up slowly, walk to the counter, and look down at the test.
Two lines.
Pregnant.
I stare at those two pink lines until they blur, emotions crashing over me in waves.
A baby. I’m carrying their baby.
I wash my hands, splash water on my face, and hide the test in my jacket pocket. Then I head downstairs, looking for the three men who are about to become fathers.
I find them in Atlas’s office, heads bent over supply invoices and security reports. They look up when I enter, and I see the exact moment they notice something different in my expression.
“Close the door,” Atlas says quietly.
I do, then turn to face three pairs of eyes watching me with varying degrees of concern.
“I need to tell you something,” I begin.
“What’s wrong?” Garrett asks, already rising from his chair.
“Nothing’s wrong. At least, I don’t think it is.” I reach into my jacket and pull out the pregnancy test, holding it up so they can all see the results. “I’m pregnant.”
At first, there’s complete, profound silence that stretches for what feels like hours but is probably only seconds.
“I thought you were going to get tampons?” Garrett says, clearly stunned.
“I lied. I was scared and didn’t want things to be awkward.”
Then Atlas moves, faster than I’ve ever seen him move, crossing the room in two strides and pulling me against him before I can blink. His arms wrap around me, holding me to his chest while his heart pounds under my ear.
Garrett appears beside us, dropping to his knees so he can rest his hand on my stomach. His palm is warm through my shirt, protective and possessive and infinitely gentle.
“Heavens,” Silas breathes, and when I look at him, there are tears in his eyes. “A baby. We’re having a baby.”
“Are you…” I swallow hard, suddenly terrified of their answer. “Are you okay with this? I know the timing is terrible, with everything that’s happening—”
“Are we okay with it?” Atlas tightens his arms around me. “Ember, we’re over the moon with it.”
“This is the best news we’ve had in years,” Garrett adds, his thumb stroking across my still-flat stomach. “I had the feeling it was a baby.”
“C’est un miracle,” Silas says, moving to kneel on my other side. “A miracle in the middle of all this darkness.”
“You’re not worried? About the danger, the timing, all the complications this creates?”
“There will always be complications,” Atlas says firmly. “But life doesn’t wait for perfect circumstances.”
“And this baby”—Garrett’s voice is rough with emotion—“is going to be the most protected, most loved child in the history of the world.”
“Three fathers,” Silas adds with a watery laugh. “Poor kid won’t be able to get away with anything.”
I laugh too, the sound shaky but genuine. “We don’t know whose—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Atlas interrupts.
“But legally—”
“We’ll figure out the legalities later. Right now, all that matters is that you’re carrying our child, and we’re going to take care of both of you.”
Garrett’s hand is still on my stomach, and I cover it with mine. “A baby. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually excited.”
“Just excited?” Silas asks.
“Terrified and excited and completely overwhelmed.” I look between all three of them. “But mostly excited.”
“Good,” Atlas says. “Because you’re about to discover what overprotective really means.”
“I’m a federal agent. I can take care of myself.”
“Not anymore, you can’t,” Garrett says firmly. “You’re carrying precious cargo now.”
“I’m still me. I’m still capable—”
“You’re still you,” Atlas agrees. “But you’re also going to be a mother. Our priorities just shifted completely.”