She cried harder after that, but the panic in her scent eased.
The doctor talked me through everything. Positioning. Timing. Signs. Pressure. What to watch for.
I did exactly as instructed. Towels under her. Pillows behind her.
My hand at her back when she shook. I kept my voice low when her panic climbed too high.
“Gregor,” she gasped my name in a different way. “Something’s happening.”
I looked and saw the baby and every system in my body stopped for one beat and then restarted too hard.
“The baby is coming.”
“I guessed that.” She cried out. Her finger nails dug into my shoulders. “Breathe.”
“That continues to be unhelpful.”
“It remains accurate.”
“Only push when you feel you need to,” Dr. Jacobson called over the phone.
Maeve’s head fell back onto the arm of the sofa. “I’m going to die.”
“No. You’re going to breathe and push when your body calls for it.”
“You don’t know that. I survived for years, Gregor and this baby is going to be the death of me.”
I leaned over her until she had no choice but to see me. “Maeve.”
Her eyes found mine.
“You crossed countries alone. You built a business while pregnant. You’re an omega who survived, Maeve.” I kept my voice even. “And you can do this.”
Fergus barked.
I glanced at him. “Yes. And you took on a dog who needed a home.”
Maeve laughed once, broken by pain. Then she screamed.
I’d heard men scream in war zones. In torture rooms. In alleyways behind expensive clubs. None of it prepared me for that sound.
“Push,” the doctor ordered.
Maeve did.
Once.
She gritted her teeth and pushed a second time.
The whole world narrowed until it was nothing but her breath and her body and the absolute animal force of our omega bringing our child into the world.
Then suddenly there he was. A small slippery weight in my hands.
Everything went silent. My eyes watered.
He was tiny. Too tiny and for one terrible second, he made no sound.
“Gregor?” Maeve said, barely a voice now. “Is he...”
