“At the council meeting.”
“Do you want me to get him?”
“No.”
Malakai’s gaze narrowed as he tracked every change in her posture.
Cole did not release her arm.
“Dax is right. Let us deal with Rhen. You have done enough.”
Leena gently pulled away once she was certain her legs would support her.
“Sule is already carrying the weight of the council and everything happening inside this house. He does not need to be dragged out over one contraction.”
“One?” Cole repeated.
Leena ignored the question and took the blood bag from Dax.
“Rhen needs this.”
“So do you,” Dax said, gesturing toward the nearest chair.
“I need rest. He needs blood. Those are not equally urgent.”
Dax crossed his arms.
“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”
Leena’s mouth curved faintly.
“I’ve heard that before.”
Malakai pulled out his phone, his thumb moving across the screen with practiced ease.
Leena turned toward the hallway.
The child’s weight pressed more heavily with each careful step, her spine protesting as she forced her breathing to remain even.
The compound held too many crises beneath one roof: an unknown woman burning through a transition, an unborn heir testing the boundaries of his mother’s body, and a clan held together by loyalty sharpened through violence.
Still, Leena trusted the brothers behind her.
They were restless, brutal, and difficult.
They were also hers.
They would stand between the clan and whatever darkness came through the gates.
Dax watched her retreat down the hallway.
“Why are women so damn stubborn?”
Malakai continued typing.
Dax tapped the edge of the table to catch his attention.
Malakai looked up.
