Mia’s POV
The helicopter blades thundered above us as we raced toward the safehouse. I clutched Damien’s newborn son tightly against my chest, the tiny bundle warm and fragile beneath the thermal blanket. His little fist curled around my finger, and my heart clenched with a fierce, unexpected protectiveness. This innocent child had already survived more than most adults.
Lila sat across from me, pale and trembling, one hand cradling her own swollen belly. Elena coordinated with the pilot, her voice strained but steady.
Damien’s voice crackled over the comms again. “ETA five minutes. Stay sharp.”
When we landed on the rooftop helipad, Damien was already waiting — bloodied, limping, but alive. The moment I stepped off with his son in my arms, he crossed the distance in three powerful str
