Slowly, I breathed through my contractions, taking deep breaths in through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. The pain was… well, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Not after all I’d been through in the past five months. But it was incredible, the way it radiated through my body, making me grit my teeth.

I could feel my body moving, changing with each contraction. The pain in my pelvis, in particular, was excruciating, as the bones shifted to make room for the baby. My eyes flashed open during one particularly intense contraction, and I cried out. God, I would have thought being a wolf would make this easier—wolves seem to have whole litters of pups without much trouble, all by themselves in the woods.

I briefly considered shifting into my wolf form.

But then, Sinclair burst into the room, rushing to my side.

“What?” he gasped, nearly skidding, scanning me for injuries. “What is it, Ella? I heard you scream—”

“No,” I gasped, as the contraction subsided. “It’s just a contraction—God, Dominic, these are awful.”

He shook his head, still panicked, kneeling beside the bed and taking my hand. “Cora is coming; she’s close,” he murmured. “She’ll be allowed in.”

“And Hank?” I asked, looking at my mate. “And Roger?”

“Roger?” Sinclair asked, confused. “Yes, Dominic! Roger! I want him here, too!”

“Why?” Sinclair’s eyes widened.

“Because!” I smacked his shoulder. “He’s the child’s uncle and godfather! He should be here! I can’t believe you didn’t call him!”

“Ella,” Sinclair sighed, reaching for his phone as I leaned back against the pillows. “I can’t believe you’re worried about propriety while you’re giving birth with insurgents outside—”

“This is going to be as perfect as I can make it for Rafe!” I snapped, determined. “And if I have to give birth in a war zone without an epidural, then Roger can damn well get out of bed and come greet his nephew!”

“Okay…” Sinclair said softly, giving in. I heard him typing on his phone, then he stood and leaned over me. Frowning, he grabbed a pillow, ripped a strip from the pillowcase, and folded it.

“You know you don’t need to do the linens thing and boil water; that’s just in the movies. I’m sure Cora will bring something to sterilize any instruments.”

“It’s not for that,” he murmured, leaning down to wipe the sweat from my brow with the folded pillowcase. “How are you, love? How do you feel?”

I relaxed as much as possible. The next contraction hadn’t started yet. “I feel…determined,” I said, gazing up at him. “Rafe is ready. He told me so. We’re both ready.”

“That’s my girl,” Sinclair said softly, cupping my chin. “So strong.”

I nodded, willing myself to believe it—that I was strong, even though I was scared and in pain. I was strong. For him, for Rafe, and for myself. I could be strong.

“Oooh,” I moaned, closing my eyes. My hands…

Sinclair knelt beside me, steady and tense. Then, as I started to breathe the way Cora had taught me, he breathed with me. He was there with me, every step of the way.

Time passed quickly, with long stretches of pain followed by a few minutes of respite. Unfortunately, those minutes were getting shorter and shorter. My labor was progressing rapidly, and I had no control over it. If I could just wait, hold him in until Cora arrived…

But no, it seemed Rafe and my body had other plans.

Sinclair talked softly to me between contractions, helping me change into a cotton nightgown. He brought me two cool cups of water—one for drinking, the other for cooling my forehead. My mate was completely attentive and supportive.

But beneath that, I saw the worry and guilt on his face—the guilt of not getting me to the hospital. I held his gaze whenever I could, letting him know silently that we would be all right. We would make it.

I don’t know how much time had passed when the door burst open. Cora rushed in, panting, her medical bag slung over her shoulder. I almost spilled my water when she burst in.

“Ella,” she gasped, rushing to my side to assess my condition. She almost knocked Sinclair over.

“Steady,” Sinclair murmured, slightly frustrated, steadying himself. Cora ignored him.

“Ella, love,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping over me. “Tell me what’s going on.” She put a hand on my stomach. “He’s low…” she murmured as I told her about my contractions—three minutes apart now—and the pain.

“Everything sounds normal, Ella,” she said calmly, meeting my gaze. I heard Sinclair sigh with relief, but I kept my eyes on my sister. She broke my gaze and started to peel back the sheets. “I need to take a look. Can you lie back?”

I did as she said, and she examined me. I looked up at Sinclair, who took my hand.

“Well,” Cora said quietly after a few minutes. “I don’t have all the tools I’d like, but,” she sat up and grinned. “Ella, you’ve progressed remarkably fast. You’re ten centimeters dilated and ready to push.”

Her grin widened. “Are you ready to have this baby, sis?” she asked, taking my other hand.

“Really?” I gasped, my eyes widening. I looked between my sister and my mate. “No way—it’s too soon!”

“It’s time,” she said. “Believe it or not, but it’s time.”

“But,” I struggled to sit up, Sinclair offering a hand. “Hank isn’t here yet—neither is Roger.”

“Roger,” Cora snapped, frowning slightly. “Why is he coming?”

“What is with you two?” I asked, baffled. “Why is everyone so shocked that I want the baby’s uncle here when he’s born?”

“We just didn’t think of it, love,” Sinclair responded, brushing my hair from my forehead. “Our focus was on you.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a sudden surge of pain hit me, and I groaned, turning my attention to my belly. “Ooooh,” I moaned, hunching my shoulders. “Oh, it’s a big one.”

“They’re all going to be big now,” Cora said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “Come on, Ella. It’s time to push.”