Chapter 143 Chapter 143
"I just woke up," I told him softly, watching tension stay in his shoulders anyway, watching how his gaze dropped immediately to my stomach like he expected bad news every second of the day.
He exhaled slowly but never relaxed, brushing my hair back carefully like I was fragile glass instead of a person, and maybe right now I was because fear lived inside me stronger than hope, stronger than excitement, stronger than everything that pregnancy was supposed to feel like, and I hated that because this baby already meant everything to both of us, yet all I could think about was loss.
"I dreamed I lost it again," I admitted quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them, and his entire body went still beside me.
His jaw tightened instantly, eyes darkening in that way I knew too well, the dangerous shift where Kai started pushing forward instead of Zaiel, the monster who solved fear with violence even when there was nothing to fight.
"That isn't happening," he said firmly, voice low and absolute, like reality itself would bend before allowing it.
I swallowed because certainty sounded beautiful coming from him even when I knew life didn't listen to threats, didn't care about power or control or the terrifying reputation he carried, and that was what scared me most because this was one thing he couldn't hunt down or destroy if it went wrong.
"I was terrified," I whispered, finally saying it fully, finally letting him see the truth I had tried hiding even while agreeing to keep the pregnancy, and his expression cracked in a way almost no one ever saw.
He moved closer instantly, pulling me carefully against his chest despite constantly worrying about pressure or movement or anything that might risk me, his hand settling protectively over my stomach as if shielding both of us at once.
"You don't carry this alone," he murmured against my hair, his voice softer than I had ever heard it, and I felt his heartbeat racing under my cheek, fast and restless, matching my own fear.
The room stayed quiet for a while as he held me, not speaking, just breathing with me until the panic eased enough for my thoughts to slow, and I realized this was what choosing to see it through actually meant, not courage or excitement or glowing happiness like people imagined, but waking every day afraid and still deciding together that we would try anyway.
"I thought if I didn't get attached, it would hurt less," I confessed after a while, fingers twisting in his shirt. "After the miscarriages, I kept thinking maybe distance would protect me."
His arm tightened immediately.
"It won't," he said quietly, not cruel or angry, just honest in that brutal way he always was with me, "and I won't let you face it alone again."
I tilted my head back to look at him, studying the exhaustion carved into his face, the shadows under his eyes from nights spent watching me breathe instead of sleeping, and guilt hit hard because I knew he blamed himself for losses he had never caused.
"You didn't fail me," I said softly.
His gaze snapped to mine instantly.
"I failed to protect you before," he replied, voice rough, and I knew he wasn't talking about pregnancy; he was talking about every pain I had ever endured before he came into my life, every scar he believed should have been prevented if only he had found me sooner.
I reached up, pressing my palm against his cheek until he focused only on me.
"We are here now," I said gently, and something in his expression softened just enough to breathe again.
The rest of the morning passed with him refusing to let me leave the bed, bringing breakfast himself despite staff being perfectly capable of doing it, adjusting pillows repeatedly, and checking my temperature twice even though nothing was wrong. Normally I would have argued, but now I understood his need to control something when biology refused to promise safety.
When the doctor called to confirm the afternoon checkup, his entire posture shifted again, tension rolling through him as he immediately started messaging security, arranging routes, clearing floors, and turning a routine appointment into something closer to a presidential escort, and I watched silently because this was love for him, overwhelming and consuming and sometimes suffocating but always rooted in devotion.
"You know pregnancy isn't a battlefield," I teased lightly.
"For me it is," he answered without hesitation, not even looking up from his phone.
The honesty stole any argument from my mouth.
At the clinic he never released my hand once, eyes scanning every hallway, every nurse, every movement around us while Carlo and Jax positioned themselves nearby and Joe stayed connected through his tablet feed, layers of protection wrapped around something invisible yet precious.
During the scan I held my breath without meaning to, fingers gripping Zaiel harder as the screen flickered to life, fear rising so fast it nearly choked me, memories crashing back of silent rooms and sympathetic looks and words that shattered entire futures.
Then the heartbeat filled the room.
Strong
Fast
Alive
A broken sound left my throat before I realized I was crying, relief hitting so violently my body shook, and Zaiel froze beside me like the world had stopped turning, eyes locked on the screen as if memorizing every flicker of movement.
"That's your baby," the doctor said gently.
Our baby
Zaiel leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine while still staring at the monitor, his composure slipping completely as emotion overwhelmed the control he clung to so tightly.
"I hear it," he whispered, almost disbelieving, and I realized this terrified man who commanded empires had been just as scared as I was.
On the drive home he barely spoke, one hand resting protectively over my stomach the entire time, thumb moving slowly like reassurance for himself more than me, and I watched the city pass outside, knowing everything between us had shifted again.
We weren't waiting for disaster anymore; we were hoping.
That night he refused meetings, canceled obligations, and ignored calls from people who normally dictated his schedule, choosing instead to sit beside me reading reports while I rested against him, occasionally glancing down just to check I was comfortable.
"You're hovering," I murmured.
"Yes," he replied calmly.
I laughed softly because arguing clearly wasn't going to change anything.
Later, when the lights dimmed and exhaustion settled in, fear crept back quietly the way it always did, whispering worst-case scenarios into my thoughts, and I turned toward him before sleep could take me.
"If something happens again," I began hesitantly.
His head lifted immediately, expression hardening.
"We face it together," he said firmly before I could finish, shutting down the spiral before it formed.
I nodded slowly, believing him because he had proven again and again that when the world broke, he stood between me and the ruins without hesitation.