Her knees buckled. The breath fled her lungs like it had been punched out.
“Mira?” Thorne was on his feet in seconds. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer—just clawed at the blankets, knuckles white, body trembling.
“I will go get the healer!” Thorne’s voice boomed through the doorway. “Now!”
Another wave hit. Mira cried out, forehead pressed to the mattress, sweat glistening at her temples.
“It hurts—oh God, it hurts—”
Thorne didn’t know what to do and dropped to his knees beside her, arms catching her as her body jerked forward again.
“Breathe with me,” he said, firm but shaken. “Look at me—Mira, look at me. You’re not alone.”
Her nails dug into his shoulder.
“I can’t—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he said, jaw clenched. “You’ve survived worse. You’re doing it now.”
“Just hold on until I get the healer,” Thorne murmured, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You better hurry,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Because this child isn’t waiting.”
“Breathe,” he said. “Keep breathing.”
Thorne disappeared through the door.
“I can’t… I’m not strong enough,” she cried, shaking her head. “It hurts. It hurts too much.”
The pain didn’t let up. It came in sharp bursts, dragging screams from Mira’s throat. Blood stained the blankets. Her back arched, her breath shook. Her cries filled the small room.
For a split second, a thought pierced through the agony—what if he doesn’t come back? What if he abandons me like everyone else?
Then, Thorne stormed through the door, barking orders at the healer.
“You’re strong enough,” he whispered against her temple. “Just a little longer.”
“Don’t let go,” she begged. “Please.”
“I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise me,” she sobbed. “Promise you won’t leave me.”
“I swear it,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’ve got this, Mira. You’re almost there.”
She didn’t believe him. Not in that moment. All she felt was fire and pressure and fear. But she clung to his hand like it was the only solid thing in the world.
The healer barked orders Mira barely understood. Something about timing, something about pushing. Thorne repeated every word, gently, steadily.
“Push now, Mira. Just like she said. Come on,” he urged.
She shook her head through clenched teeth. “I can’t—I’m not ready.”
“You are. You are. Look at me,” he said, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “You’ve got this.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Thorne, I’m so scared.”
“I know,” he said. “But I’m right here.”
Then a sound cut through the pain. A cry—thin, fierce, alive. A boy.
Mira gasped, head falling back. Her body trembled. She thought it was over.
“One more,” the healer snapped. “There’s another.”
“Another?” Mira whimpered. “No, no, I didn’t know—”
“You can do this,” Thorne said again, gripping her shoulders. “Just one more. I promise.”
“I’m going to break,” she cried. “Thorne…”
“You won’t. You won’t,” he repeated, desperate. “Stay with me. Just stay with me.”
She didn’t have time to panic. Her body moved again, pushed again, burned again. She screamed. Then another cry. Softer. A second boy. Her mind spun.
Twins.
Mira wept openly now, chest heaving, arms open to receive the second child. The healer placed him in her arms carefully. Her whole body shook.
Thorne leaned back, arms streaked with blood, his chest rising and falling. He didn’t speak. But when Mira looked at him, he nodded once. Approval. Or maybe respect.
“Are they okay?” she asked, voice trembling.
The healer nodded. “They’re perfect.” She cradled both boys against her chest. They were small, red-faced, and warm. Their cries softened, fading into hiccupping breaths.
“Caelan,” she whispered, kissing one tiny head.
“Rowen,” she said to the other. Her tears touched their skin.
Thorne sat beside her now, still and silent. “You’re mine,” she said, holding them tighter. “You’re safe.”
Her voice cracked, but the words stayed strong. She looked up at Thorne. “Thank you.” He didn’t respond right away. Then he simply nodded. His hand rested near hers on the blanket.
She reached out, just brushing his fingers.
“You are a fighter.” Thorne exhaled slowly. “You did that.”