“Ella,” I gasp, terrified. But there’s nothing I can do – I just hold her until she stops, until she opens her eyes and looks shocked into my face and then down at her belly, her face going white. “Down,” she demands. “Put me down. Something…something happened.” ______________________ Ell
Ella The sound of gunfire rings out around us and I feel Sinclair lurch to cover me in the suddenly-still car. Trembling, I try to peek out from beneath his arm as he curses vehemently, his body tense over mine. The gunfire ends and Sinclair moves, jolting back to the driver’s seat and hitting t
“Go,” I say, nodding encouragingly and working hard to put a little smile on my face. “We’ll be fine.” I move my hand to my belly again, worried, suddenly, as I realize that Rafe can feel my anxiety – an anxiety beyond that which a new mother feels when she goes into labor. My poor baby – he’s alrea
Ella Slowly, I breathe through my contractions, taking deep breaths in through my nose and huffing them out of my mouth. The pain is…well, I suppose I can’t say like anything I’ve felt before, can I? Not after all I’ve been through in the past five months. But it’s incredible, the way it radiates
But no, it seems like Rafe and my body have other plans. Sinclair talks softly to me throughout the process, helping me get ready in the moments between contractions. He helps me change into a cotton nightgown instead of the travel clothes I was wearing on the way here. He brings me two cool cups o
Ella I’m gripping my sister’s hand, gritting my teeth and groaning through the first of my pushes, when the door bangs open again. I don’t open my eyes – can’t look – Quite frankly, at this particular moment I don’t care who the hell it is – if it’s Hank, or Roger, or insurgents coming to kill us
I nod, eager, and begin to push again. And push, and push. I gasp, laying back and panting as I feel the contraction end, and I look to Cora for instructions. Instead of a happy smile, though, I see her exchange an odd little glance with Hank. “What,” I demand, working to sit up and moaning at the
Sinclair Agony. It’s agony for me – obviously, more for my mate, I’m sure – but watching her survive this is ripping me apart. I struggle against Roger’s grip – he shouldn’t be stronger than me, he’s never stronger than me, I should be able to break away – but something about all of this has jus