After the Storm - Surviving the Storm book 2

Storm Six years. Six years since I had fled Ireland with nothing but fear in my heart and the desperate hope that I could somehow escape the life I’d been forced to live. Six years since I’d believed happiness was something that happened to other people. Six years since I’d looked over my shoulder and wondered whether the people hunting me would finally find me. Back then, I had been running. Now? I had a home. A mate. A family. A life I once would have thought belonged in someone else’s fairy tale. I had three beautiful stepdaughters. Friends who had become family. And four beautiful children of my own. I had everything I’d once been terrified to dream about. Love. Security. Happiness. Peace. For the first time in my life, I thought perhaps I was finally safe. But sometimes the universe has a strange sense of humour. Because just when you finally believe the storm has passed… another one can be gathering beyond the horizon. I sat quietly in the rocking chair beside the nursery window, slowly rocking back and forth as I watched lightning tear across the night sky. For one breathtaking second, the entire landscape surrounding our home was illuminated. Then darkness swallowed it again. Thunder rolled across the sky. Rain battered against the windows. And strangely… I smiled. Storms had always calmed me. Perhaps that sounded strange. Most people hated them. The thunder. The lightning. The violent rain. But I’d always found something comforting about them. The noise drowned out the chaos inside my head. The rain washed against the windows like the world was being cleansed. And maybe there was something fitting about the fact that I had been named Storm. Perhaps storms had always understood me because I’d spent so much of my life being one. Beautiful. Powerful. Unpredictable. Capable of destroying everything in their path. I looked down at the tiny bundle sleeping peacefully in my arms. My daughter. Ciara. Almost three months old. My beautiful little girl had no idea there was a storm raging outside. She simply continued nursing peacefully, completely oblivious to the thunder shaking the windows. I smiled and gently stroked her tiny head. Four children. Four tiny pieces of my heart. Dalton would turn five this year. Finn was almost four. Cian would soon be two. And then there was my precious little Ciara. Four babies in less than five years. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe they were all mine. Four little people who had somehow taken pieces of my heart I hadn’t even known existed. And if Doyle had his way… They wouldn’t be the last. I rolled my eyes at the thought. That man loved being a father. Perhaps a little too much. He also seemed to enjoy practising for the role of father more than any man I’d ever met. I couldn’t help smiling. And, if I was being completely honest, I certainly wasn’t opposed to the practising. But after four pregnancies and four babies in such a short period of time, I had finally decided my body deserved a little time to recover. Doyle might have had other ideas. He’d probably tell me that one more baby couldn’t possibly hurt. I smiled. He was impossible. But he was my impossible. And I loved him more than I could ever put into words. Another flash of lightning illuminated the nursery. My smile faded. Doyle was away. He’d travelled to Germany with Sean and Siobhan for a pack meeting with Logan’s in-laws. He wasn’t due home for another couple of days. I hated when he was gone. Not because I didn’t trust him. I trusted him completely. It was simply that after everything I’d been through, I’d become accustomed to having him beside me. Doyle was my safe place. My home. Whenever he was gone, there was an emptiness inside me that I couldn’t quite explain. I missed him. More than I wanted to admit. Ciara finally finished feeding. I carefully lifted her against my shoulder and rubbed her tiny back. It didn’t take long. A loud little burp escaped. I laughed softly. “Good girl.” I continued rubbing her back for another few minutes before carrying her over to her crib. I lowered her carefully onto the mattress. She stirred. My heart stopped. Please don’t wake. Her little face scrunched up. Then, thankfully, her eyes remained closed. I smiled. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. Sometimes I wondered how anyone could look at a sleeping baby and not believe there was something beautiful about the world. I returned to the rocking chair. Outside, the storm continued. Lightning. Thunder. Rain. I watched it through the window until I lost track of time. Eventually, exhaustion won. I checked on Ciara one last time before quietly leaving the nursery. Back in my bedroom, I climbed beneath the covers and reached for Doyle’s pillow. His scent still lingered on it. I pulled it against my chest and closed my eyes. Two more days. Just two more days until my mate came home. I could manage that. Couldn’t I? The rain continued falling. And eventually, I drifted into a deep sleep. A peaceful sleep. A sleep completely untouched by the feeling that something was changing. Something I couldn’t see. Something I couldn’t hear. Something waiting patiently for the right moment to enter our lives. ⸻ I woke the following morning to muffled giggles. I kept my eyes closed. Small feet shuffled across the mattress. Someone whispered. Someone else shushed them. Then another voice whispered far too loudly. “Do it now.” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Dalton. My eldest had apparently decided that waking his mother required military-level planning. I listened as he whispered instructions to his brothers. “Finn, you have to jump.” “No.” “Cian, you do it.” “No!” “You’re supposed to listen to me!” A frustrated sigh followed. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I opened my eyes. Dalton froze. His eyes widened. Before he could escape, I reached out and grabbed him, pulling him underneath the covers. He squealed with laughter as I wrapped my arms around him and covered his neck in kisses. “Mama!” I laughed as he squirmed beneath me. When I finally released him, he folded his arms across his chest. “They don’t listen to me,” he complained. I raised an eyebrow. “Your brothers are still little.” “I know.” “But you’re the big brother.” His expression immediately brightened. “Exactly.” I laughed. “They’re supposed to listen to me because I’m the big brother.” “That isn’t quite how it works.” “It should be.” I kissed the top of his head. “Maybe when they’re a little older, they’ll listen to you more.” Dalton considered that. Then his expression changed. “When’s Daddy coming home?” My heart squeezed. Of course. His father coming home was always the most important event in Dalton’s world. “Soon,” I promised. “How soon?” “In a couple of days.” His face fell. “That’s ages.” I smiled. “I know.” Finn and Cian finally crawled across the bed and squeezed themselves into the space beside us. Within seconds, I was surrounded by warm little bodies. I loved mornings like this. The quiet ones. The ordinary ones. The moments where I could forget about everything else and simply be a mother. I knew the moment Ciara woke, the peacefulness would disappear. So I soaked up every second. A few moments later, the bedroom door opened. Julie stood in the doorway. She smiled at the sight of all of us tangled together. “Wow,” she whispered. “Don’t you all look snuggly.” “We cuddling Mama,” Finn announced proudly. “I can see that.” “Mama warm.” Julie laughed. “With three boys crawling all over her, I’m not surprised.” She sat on the edge of the bed. I smiled at her. “I’m just enjoying this before Ciara wakes.” “I’ll get her when she does.” I looked at her. “Are you sure?” “Of course.” “Why are you even awake this early?” Julie gave me an amused look. “Really?” “What?” “I had an early night.” I stared at her. She grinned. “And unlike Leah, I don’t have someone keeping me awake until the early hours of the morning wanting sex.” I burst out laughing. “Fair point.” “Until I find my mate, I’m going to enjoy every second of uninterrupted sleep I can get.” I shook my head. “Then here’s some advice.” Julie raised an eyebrow. “When you finally meet your mate, make sure you find out how many children he plans on having.” She laughed. “Why?” I gestured toward the three boys climbing over her. “Because apparently some men have very ambitious family plans.” Julie looked at the boys. “They are cute.” “They are.” I smiled. “Very cute.” “They’re also exhausting.” “That too.” Within seconds, Julie had all three boys giggling as she tickled them. Their laughter filled the room. I sat there watching them. My heart felt so full it almost hurt. This was my life. My beautiful, chaotic, noisy life. My children were safe. My family was together. My mate was coming home. I had everything I’d ever wanted. Everything I’d once believed I would never have. And perhaps that was why I didn’t immediately understand the strange feeling that suddenly settled over me. A shiver travelled down my spine. I looked toward the window. The storm from the night before had passed. The sky was clear. Bright. Peaceful. Yet something inside me whispered that the storm hadn’t really ended. Not yet. I stared at the beautiful morning outside. I should have listened to that feeling. I should have trusted the instinct that had kept me alive for so many years. Because sometimes the most dangerous storms aren’t the ones you can see. Sometimes they arrive quietly. Without thunder. Without lightning. Without warning. And when the next storm finally reached us… It wouldn’t come for me. It would come for someone I loved. And by the time I discovered who… It would already be too late.