Page 138 of Dual

“Hi, little dude,” she whispers. “I’m your Aunt Moira. I’m going to teach you all the fun stuff your dad won’t want you to know.”

“The hell you will,” I growl, but there’s no heat in it.

Bane watches his wife with soft eyes, something wistful in his expression. They’ve been dancing around the topic of kids since they got married. Maybe this will?—

“Want to hold your nephew?” Moira asks him, already nervously passing Connor over before he can answer.

Bane takes him with the easy confidence of someone who’s comfortable with babies—all those christenings, I suppose. Connor looks impossibly small in his arms.

“Hello, Connor,” Bane says softly. “Welcome to a very complicated family.”

“The most complicated,” Isaak agrees, moving closer to peer at my son. “But also the most loyal.”

Even Isaak holds him briefly, the giant man handling my son like precious cargo while Lily watches from her blanket with curious eyes. Soon enough, though, Connor’s back in my arms where he belongs, settling against my chest like he was made to fit there.

“We should order food,” Kira suggests. “You need to eat. Keep your strength up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Domhnall.” Her tone brooks no argument. “You have a son now. You don’t get to not eat. He needs you strong.”

She’s right. Damn her maternal logic.

“Pizza,” Moira announces. “Comfort food. Carbs. All the things Domhn pretends he doesn’t eat.”

I don’t argue. Can’t, really, with Connor’s weight in my arms reminding me that everything’s changed. I have someone depending on me now. Someone who needs me to be more than the hollow shell I’ve been since Anna left.

While Moira orders enough food to feed an army, I study my son’s face. He has my coloring, his jaw already showing my stubborn lines. But there—the shape of his eyes, the curve of his lip—that’s her. All her.

“She carried him,” I say quietly. “All those months, she was out there carrying our son, and I didn’t know.”

“She was protecting you both,” Bane offers. “Whatever she’s doing, wherever she is, she’s making sure you’re safe.”

Safe. Is that what we are? This house has become a fortress, yes. My security is the best money can buy. But she’s out there facing God knows what alone while I sit here, useless.

No. Not useless. I’m caring for our son. That’s what she needs me to do.

The food arrives in a chaos of boxes and the smell of cheese and garlic. My stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten properly in days. We spread out in the living room, an impromptu family dinner with my son sleeping in my arms.

“To Connor,” Isaak says and raises his beer. “And to his mother’s swift return.”

We toast with whatever’s in hand—beer, water, Moira’s Diet Coke. Connor sleeps through it all, blissfully unaware that his arrival has changed everything.

“I should set up a nursery,” I say, the practical considerations finally breaking through the shock. “He needs a proper space.”

“We’ll help,” Kira immediately offers. “I still have the list of all the baby stores and sites from when I was setting up Lily’s room.”

“I can handle security modifications,” Isaak adds. “Baby monitors, additional cameras, motion sensors calibrated for?—”

“Breathe,” Moira interrupts. “He just got here. Maybe let’s just get through tonight first?”

She’s right. Tonight. Tomorrow. One step at a time.

Connor stirs in his sleep, making small snuffling sounds that tug at something primal in my chest. My son. My blood. My responsibility.

I was helpless once, as was my little sister, and the people who should have been there to take care of us didn’t. My son will never know that neglect and abandonment. He’ll never have to wonder what the wordfamilymeans, because we willalwaysbe right here at his side, supporting and loving him.

“I’m going to find her,” I say quietly. “I have resources. Contacts. I can try harder. I can’t just sit here?—”