Mae lay motionless on the bed, her skin damp and ghostly pale. Her breaths came shallow and quick, like her body was forgetting how to breathe altogether. Her arms trembled, useless at her sides, while the blood beneath her soaked through the sheets, hot and unrelenting. The room had fallen into a kind of hushed frenzy around her, controlled chaos laced with fear. Lucien knelt beside her, pressing into her abdomen with gloved hands, his jaw clenched, his focus surgical. “You’re okay,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Stay with me.”
Kaine had both babies swaddled against his chest, rocking gently on the floor, his back against the wall. He looked overwhelmed but determined, cradling life as death tried to pull one of them under. Ashar moved like a storm across the room, grabbing towe
