Page 189 of Ruthless Claim

Warmth spreads through me and I put my hand on the curve of my stomach.

I swear I’ve been able to feel the baby move. Cillian’s hand finds mine there in the dark without either of us saying anything about it.

We survived it.

The lies and the distance and the carefully engineered attempt to take us apart.

We came out the other side battered and paranoid and closer than we’ve ever been, which is not the outcome whoever hired “Claire Murphy” was going for. I find a sick sense of satisfaction in that.

They’re still out there. Some nights it’s all I can think about.

But Cillian’s heartbeat is steady under my cheek and his hand is warm over mine and we’re having a baby. That’s going to have to be enough.

It is enough.

EPILOGUE: VALENTINA

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

I read all the books. Listened to my mother’s and Emma’s stories, took the classes with Cillian who sat through every single one like it was a final exam he needed to ace.

I watched the videos. I prepared.

None of it prepared me for this.

“I’m going to kill you,” I gasp as a wave of pain overwhelms me, Cillian’s hand locked in mine, his bones grinding together in a way that should concern me more than it does. “This is your fault. All of it.”

“I know,” he says, in an infuriatingly steady voice. This motherfucker. He can be calm because he’s not currently experiencing what I am currently experiencing. Fucking Eve. She had to go and eat the forbidden fruit. “You can kill me later. Right now you need to breathe.”

The snarl I release is inhuman as I glare at him, my sweaty hair plastered to my face. “Don’t tell me to breathe—ah!”

The contraction peaks and the swear words I unleash are so colorful it makes a nurse gasp.

When it finally ebbs, I fall back against the pillows and stare at the ceiling, trying to remember why I thought this was a good idea.

“How much longer?” I ask Dr. Hidalgo wearily.

“You’re doing great. Almost there.” She looks up at me from the foot of the bed, radiating calm. I guess I would be calm too if I did this every day. It’s the only reason I don’t say something unforgivable. “Another few pushes and you’ll meet your daughter.”

Daughter.

We’re having a girl. Cillian unashamedly cried at the twenty-week ultrasound while I sat there with my hand over my mouth unable to make a single sound.

A daughter.

Half me and half this impossible man beside me, who is currently letting me destroy his hand bones together without complaint.

Another contraction builds and I stop thinking about anything except getting through it.

“That’s it,” Dr. Hidalgo says from behind her mask. “One more big push. Come on, Valentina.”

Cillian is saying something close to my ear, and I focus on his voice and push with everything I have left, which is not much, and then⁠—

A cry.

High and indignant and furious at the world. I burst into tears.

“She’s here.” I can see Dr. Hidalgo’s smile. “Congratulations.”