Ella
I blink, surprised, when I hear Roger laugh. Honestly, I expected anything else: yelling, begging, stern orders—anything but the low chuckle that tumbles from his lips as he leans back, hands in his pockets.
"I'm serious," Cora says, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "I'm going with you. You need me."
Roger shakes his head. "Cora, I need you, absolutely. But I'm not letting my pregnant mate climb into a sewer with me to attack an unknown enemy."
"Well, if you wouldn't let me do it, why would I let you do it!" she counters angrily.
"Because I'm not pregnant!" Roger shouts back, as if it's obvious. Sinclair shifts, moving behind me—his arms still around my shoulders—so we can both watch.
"We're pregnant," Cora shouts, pointing between herself and Roger. "This isn't a 'me or you' thing! I'm not interested in single motherhood on day two of this pregnancy!"
Roger sighs, putting an exhausted hand to his forehead. "This is my job. This is what we do. You can't ask me to back away from it."
"Why not, when you're doing the same to me?" Cora counters stubbornly. I bite my lip, torn between supporting my sister and agreeing with Roger. There's absolutely no way Cora should go on this mission.
"What are you talking about?" Roger asks, frustrated.
"I can help," Cora says, pointing at herself. "I'm a doctor. You guys are going to get hurt out there—you need me!"
"Have we had enough of this?" Sinclair asks telepathically. I lean back against him, tense, watching our siblings argue. When do I interrupt?
Give them another second, I reply internally, wanting them to resolve this themselves. But even if it came to a vote, it's three to one. Cora's staying home.
Roger waves a dismissive hand. "We're trained in field medicine. It will be enough until we get home."
"People could die!" Cora counters. "You could die! And how would I feel for the rest of my life—what would I tell our child—knowing I could have been there and saved you?"
Roger's face falls, and he falters, unsure how to reply. I'm equally torn. If Sinclair died, and I could have done something…
I don't know if I'd survive it, Sinclair says, his inner voice dark and sad.
Let me, I reply, stepping forward and placing a hand on Cora's arm.
"Cora," I whisper. My sister finally looks at me. I shake my head slowly. "Cora, you can't go."
"Why not?" she growls.
"Because," I reply, shrugging. "Your argument works both ways. How would Roger feel if you were killed, along with your baby, and he could have kept you safe?"
Roger groans, turning away, raising a hand to cover his face. Cora looks at him, surprised by this rare display of intense emotion. These Sinclair brothers—so steady on the surface, but still waters run deep.
Cora moves to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, turning him back to face her and wrapping her arms around his waist. She rests her head on his chest as he hugs her. "I don't like this," she whispers. "I hate it, Roger."
"I know," he murmurs, his lips against her hair. "I'm sorry. But Cora, I promise you it will be all right."
"Is it always going to be like this?" she asks, looking up at him. "Is this what I've gotten myself into? Battle after battle, fight after fight? Constantly worrying about whether you're coming home to me, to…us?"
My own emotions stir. I look at Sinclair, who shakes his head steadily. No, he says firmly. We will have peace. I will bring you peace. Just…a little further.
"I promise, Cora," Roger replies, tightening his arms around her. "I promise it will be all right."
Sinclair guides me from the room, giving them a moment alone. He takes my hand as we leave, both of us silent. I look down at my baby, feeling the same emotions Cora must feel.
"Is it different now?" Sinclair asks as we enter our room.
"Hmm?" I ask, startled.
"Now that he's born," Sinclair says, nodding towards the baby as I carry him to his crib. "This isn't the first time you've sent me off to battle. Does it feel different, now that he's a little person instead of part of you?"
"He was always a little person," I murmur, smiling as I lay Rafe down. "Since very early on, he was my little guy. But no," I reply, straightening and looking at my mate. "It's always horrible, Dominic. I'm never going to get used to it. That time we thought you died…"
Tears spring to my eyes. He shushes me, pressing a finger to my mouth, and I nod, understanding. It's not that he doesn't want me to feel these emotions, these memories—he just… well, we both know I don't need to dwell on it. He will come back to me, as he always does.
Sinclair nods. "Brave little mate," he whispers, kissing me. I cling to him, never wanting to let go.
The day passes quickly with preparations. Cora and I watch mostly in silence, helping where we can, though Sinclair's team is very capable. Their self-sufficiency is almost worse; we're helpers by nature.
"I hate this," Cora growls beside me as we watch the men pack supplies.
"It's for the best," I sigh, leaning against her as I bounce Rafe, trying to soothe his crying. It's as if he knows his father is leaving. "No battlefields for baby," I say softly, smiling down at him.
Cora laughs darkly, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Ella, you were in like, three battlefield situations when you were pregnant."
"True," I say, tilting my head. "Sinclair probably should have locked me up in a bunker long ago."
"Truer words never spoken," Sinclair says, smirking as he approaches. "Is it time?" I ask, stepping closer as Roger joins us.
"It is," Sinclair replies, pulling me close, looking at my face, then at the baby. "Calm down, baby trouble," he murmurs, tracing Rafe's forehead. "I'll be home soon."
"You'd better be," I growl, kissing him.
"Don't eat all the snacks," he whispers, giving me a playful smack on the behind as he turns to leave. "We'll be hungry when we come home."
"No promises!" I call after him, grinning. I turn to watch Cora say goodbye to Roger, my heart aching for her.
"See you soon, gorgeous," Roger says, waving as he heads to the car. I step closer to my sister, taking a deep breath, sending a silent prayer that this isn't the last time we see them alive.