The world does not ask if a mother is ready.
It simply decides.
⸻
The first contraction does not feel like pain.
It feels like gravity choosing me.
One moment I am standing at the sanctum window with Zane’s arms around my waist, the next my knees give out as reality tightens violently around my core. The heir surges in alarm, their control fracturing into pure instinct for the first time since they broke the equation.
Zane catches me instantly.
“What’s happening,” he demands.
Jason appears at the threshold in a blur of motion and terror.
“The Predator has shifted its starvation vector,” he says, eyes locking on my abdomen. “It’s no longer emptying the world. It’s collapsing her viability window.”
Another contraction slams through me, this one sharp enough to steal sound from my t
