Ravyn
The world returned slowly—like surfacing from deep water. The cries had quieted, replaced by the softer sounds of life: the rustle of blankets, the faint hum of monitors, the steady breathing of two tiny bodies nestled close.
Her arms ached, but in the best possible way. One twin rested against her chest, tiny fingers curling and uncurling. The other lay in a bassinet at her side, swaddled tight, watched over by a nurse with a protective tenderness that mirrored Ravyn’s own.
Grayson was slumped in the chair nearest her bed, gray eyes closed, head tipped back in exhaustion. Even in sleep he radiated strength, the Alpha’s presence never fully gone.
Cassian hadn’t moved. He sat in the shadowed corner, posture taut, gaze locked on the second twin as if looking away would break someth
