Leo blows his nose and wipes his face, his emotions spilling over.
He’s such a softy, and everyone knows it. “Yeah, Nix,” he says, voice thick, before settling beside Grayson, ready to see this through together.
Luca takes it all in, pride and awe mingling in his chest. They’re going to kick this in the butt. Each of them, in their own way, is willing to step up without hesitation, proving again that when it comes to their family, they’ll always find a way.
The next hour is filled with Nix’s pained but determined groans as their omega works tirelessly to bring their pack babies into the world.
Jay doesn’t move from his place near Nix’s knee, the backs of his knuckles twitching against Luca’s leg. The hand must be locked around Nix’s ankle.
On the other side, Rowan has slipped seamlessly into coach mode, murmuring calm encouragement into Nix’s ear, like they’re still at one of those breathing classes that only Leo took seriously.
Grayson is all quiet focus, one hand gripping Nix’s tightly, glowing faintly pink every so often. It takes Luca a moment to realize what’s happening—Grayson is siphoning off some of Nix’s pain, just enough to give him a moment to breathe. Nearby, Leo hovers, brushing sweat-damp hair from Grayson’s face and muttering something low and steady that Luca can’t quite catch.
Gideon hasn’t strayed far from Finn, his hand pressed firmly against his mate’s shoulder. His gaze flickers between the crowning baby and Luca, his calm expression only broken by the faintest smile. Even with sweat soaking his shirt, Gideon’s there, steady and calm, smelling like summer rain.
And Finn, brow furrowed and pale, the doctor quietly guiding his mate through one of the hardestthings a body can do.
It’s 11:57 PM on June 30th when Marigold Lauren Foster makes her loud, dramatic entry into the world. Nix had told Luca he’d chosen her name the moment she was conceived, as if it had come to him as a divine gift.
Finn, smiling softly, cradles the squirming, fresh-grass-scented baby for a moment before placing her gently on Nix’s chest. He holds out the surgical scissors, offering them to Rowan, who shakes his head. Without a word, Rowan nods toward Jay, silently passing the honor to their Pack Alpha.
Jay reaches for them, but his vision is too blurred by tears to see properly.
With a soft smile, Gideon guides Jay’s hand as they cut the cord together. Their usually unshakable leader is a mess of emotion, his lips pressing a reverent kiss to Nix’s raised knee.
Luca finally leans in for his first close look at his daughter, and the sight almost knocks him sideways. She’s beautiful, impossibly so, her tiny face free of marks or blood. She’s crying furiously, her scrunched-up features radiating pure indignation at being thrust into the cold, hard world—Luca can relate.
But the moment Nix presses his lips to her forehead, she softens, her cries fading as she sucks her fingers into her mouth.
“Rowan?” Nix asks, his voice soft but edged with concern.
Rowan’s frown deepens, his aura flickering as if the Wolf is fighting to take over. But he holds steady, the tension in his frame easing when the Wolf finally relents. A smile breaks across his face, and he reaches out, running a big fingertip gently over his daughter’s cheek. “She’s beautiful, Nixie. Looks just like you.”
Her fiery red-gold hair would say otherwise, but Nix’s lips curve into a tired grin. “Yeah? But she sounds just like you.” His grin falters, turning into a grimace. “Oh…uh…guys? I think…”
“Now?” Finn asks, already stepping in to take Marigold. He cradles the tiny baby for a moment before offering her to her birth father.
Rowan wastes no time pulling off his shirt, tears spilling freely as he takes Marigold into his arms. He holds her close, her tiny body pressed against his chest as if this were his hundredth baby rather than just his second. His voice trembles, thick with emotion, as he whispers, “Hello, Marigold. I’myour Dad.”
Not long after, Finn gently lays Rose Frances Pearce on Nix’s chest, tucking the white blanket adorned with tiny pink roses over both of them. She’s smaller than Marigold, her scent delicate and floral, like orchids. Her hair is pitch-black and wavy, her elegant nose offset with perfect rosebud lips. Beautiful and messy, she’s already fast asleep, her tiny face serene despite the whirlwind of activity around her.
She’d let out a brief protest when Finn cleared her nose, but nowhere near the level of indignation her sister had shown moments earlier. This time, it’s Grayson who steps forward to carefully cut her umbilical cord, his hand confident.
Grayson hesitates for just a moment, his glowing fingers brushing lightly over Rosie’s cheek. The faint pink shimmer of his magic flares, wrapping her in warmth as if it recognizes her already.
Luca wonders if anyone else sees the tiniest golden glow in response.
“She’s so tiny,” Grayson whispers, awe threading through his voice. Then, with a soft smile, he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. “She’s beautiful, Angel. Thank you.”
Once Finn has moved on to dealing with the aftermath of their thirty-eight weeks in utero, Leo grins and holds up two small cards. They’re handwritten, neatly prepared by Finn weeks ago, and tucked into the birth kit for just this moment.
“12:05 AM on July first,” Leo announces, showing the times he’d carefully recorded for both babies. “They’re eight minutes apart—on different days!”
Two sisters, two birthdays, and a family forever changed.
Luca takes the little gray card with the tiny mouse in the corner: Marigold is just 6.1 pounds but long, at 22 inches. Her sister’s card, decorated with a shimmery pink butterfly, shows she’s even smaller, at 5 pounds and 20 inches.
“You were incredible, Nix,” Finn says, his tone full of quiet admiration.
