Chapter 150

Chapter 150
Gabriel's POV

I look up at her eyes. "You don't think I'm crazy? Seventeen routes, background checks, armored cars—"

"I think you're a man about to become a father, handling fear the only way he knows how." She interrupts, fingers threading through my hair. "Your way just happens to involve military-grade security and tactical planning, but the essence is the same—you want to protect the people you love."

"Instead of planning route eighteen, how about—" Another kick makes her laugh. "How about you talk to your daughter. She clearly wants your attention."

I stare at her swollen belly where our daughter is moving. Slowly, I place both hands flat on Isabella's stomach, feeling that pulse of life.

"Hey, little one." I say softly, feeling slightly foolish but completely genuine. "Your mom says I need to calm down, she's probably right. Your dad's a bit... overprotective, but that's because you and your mom mean everything to me."

Another kick, this one right against my palm. Isabella laughs. "I think she's responding to you."

"Yeah?" I lean closer, lips almost touching Isabella's skin. "Then listen up, little one. Tomorrow, or the next day, or sometime this week, you're going to come meet us. I promise you, I'll make sure everything is ready. Your mom will be safe, you'll be safe, and we'll be a family."

"We already are." Isabella says softly, hand covering mine. "We're already a family, Gabriel."

I look up at her, those brown eyes reflecting me back—not the crime boss, not the strategist, just a man, a husband, a soon-to-be father.

"Yes." I say, believing it for the first time. "We are."

We stay like that, my hand on her belly, her hand covering mine, our daughter moving between us. Outside, dawn begins to break, golden light filtering through the curtain gaps.

"Come back to bed." Isabella says gently. "Lie beside me. You need rest."

"I need to make sure—"

"Gabriel." Her tone is soft but firm. "The routes are checked. Security is in place. The doctor is on call. What you need to do now is lie here with us. Can you do that?"

I look at her, at that face glowing from pregnancy, at those eyes full of trust and love.

"Okay." I say, removing my shoes and carefully lying beside her. My hand immediately returns to her belly, that position already habit.

Isabella turns on her side as much as she can, nestling close, head on my shoulder. "Much better." She murmurs.

I kiss the top of her head, closing my eyes. For the first time, I don't immediately start running through contingency plans in my mind. Instead, I focus on this moment—Isabella's breathing, the warmth of her skin, our daughter's occasional movements.

"Gabriel?" Isabella's voice is drowsy.

"Mm?"

"Thank you for loving us so much. Even if it's a little crazy."

I tighten my arm, careful not to press on her belly. "I don't know how to love you any other way."

She laughs, the sound fading into sleep. Minutes later, her breathing becomes steady and deep.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling her weight in my arms. Outside, the city is waking, but in this room, in this bed, the world has shrunk to just the three of us.

By afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the windows has grown unusually warm. I managed a few hours of sleep, enough to take the edge off my exhaustion. After Isabella woke, she wanted to walk. The doctor recommended daily movement to help with delivery, so we came to the garden.

Isabella wears a loose cotton dress, holding a book Dominic gave her as a gift, his crooked handwriting on the spine reading "For Starlight."

"Dominic says he wants to be the best big brother." Isabella opens the pages, fingertips tracing the pencil marks on the flyleaf. "He also asked if he could play with the baby after she's born."

"Of course." I help her navigate around a rose bush, pace slow and careful. "When she's older, I'll personally teach her how to ride a bicycle, how to plant flowers."

Isabella tilts her head to look at me, eyes teasing: "Crime boss teaching his daughter to ride a bike? That's a bit incongruous."

"Then let it be incongruous." I answer seriously. "I can teach her how to ride while telling her how to avoid snipers."

She can't help but laugh, but the smile quickly freezes—she suddenly stops, one hand supporting her lower back, face paling slightly.

"What's wrong?" I'm immediately alert, gripping her shoulder, heart rate spiking.

"Might be false labor." She takes a deep breath, trying to relax. "The doctor said it happens often in the last few weeks, nothing major—"

Before she can finish, her expression changes. I see her bite her lip, fine sweat beading on her forehead, fingers gripping my sleeve desperately.

"Pain?" My voice is tight.

"Yes." She nods, voice trembling. "And... regular."

My brain blanks for an instant, then training takes over. I pull out my phone, pressing the emergency button—the signal set a month ago. Once triggered, the entire medical team and security detail activates immediately.

"Maybe the baby can't wait." Isabella tries to smile, but pain twists her expression.

I don't answer, simply lifting her into my arms. Her body is lighter than expected, the loose dress fluttering in the wind, book falling to the ground, pages spread open to "you tame me and I am yours forever."

"Gabriel—"

"Don't talk." I cut her off, striding toward the manor entrance, each step as smooth as possible. "Deep breaths, like the doctor taught you."

The black convoy is already waiting at the door. Quincy pulls open the car door, Aiden sits in the driver's seat, engine rumbling low. I carefully place Isabella in the back seat, sitting pressed close beside her, one hand clasping hers, the other resting on her belly—I can feel those regular contractions, like some kind of countdown.

"Go." I order into the communicator. "Activate Plan A, clear the main road, hospital prepare for arrival."

The convoy pulls away from the manor, speed fast but extremely smooth. I'd had Aiden install a special suspension system in advance, ensuring no bumps even at high speed. Through the windows, every intersection along the street has guards posted, all traffic lights turn green, the entire route clearing for us—those seventeenth checks all paying off now.

Isabella has another contraction, biting her lip, nails digging into the back of my hand. I feel skin break, warm blood seeping out, but I don't let go, gripping tighter instead.

"Look at me." I cup her face, forcing her gaze to focus on mine. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

"I'm not afraid." She gasps, forehead pressing against my chin. "Just... hurts a bit."

"I know." I kiss the top of her head, voice low enough only she can hear. "Hold on a little longer. We're almost there."

The car is quiet except for her rapid breathing and the engine's roar. I stare at the rapidly retreating streetscape through the window, heart pounding like it might burst from my chest. I've checked this route seventeen times, know every detail by heart, but right now I just wish it could be shorter, shorter still.