POV: Julian St. Clair.
The sun hadn’t fully risen. The light coming through the windows was pale and unsure—like it didn’t quite know what kind of day it was meant to be.
**Julian** stood in the doorway of the small private wing where **Vivianne** was being monitored. She was asleep, one hand resting lightly over her growing belly. It was barely visible yet, but real. Undeniable.
He didn’t step in right away. Just stood there. Watching. Feeling the weight of everything that had come before pressing against his ribs like armor that didn’t fit anymore.
A small bundle of baby clothes sat folded on the windowsill. Knit by hand. Soft grays and forest greens. Probably Ember’s work. Or one of the pack elders. Someone still hopeful.
He finally stepped in.
The room was quiet, save for Viviann
