Page 112 of Claimed By the Damned
"Tell them," he says, his thumb brushing possessively over my hip.
I blink at him, my mind catching up slowly.Tell them what—
Oh.
My fork clatters softly against the plate as I set it down, my hands suddenly shaking just a little. A different kind of tremor this time, not fear, but a dizzying mix of joy and disbelief.
Ethan catches it first, his easy smile slipping into something softer, more searching. His eyes meet mine across the table, instantly attentive. Ryker tilts his head, his usual grin fading slightly as his eyes narrow, perceptive as always. Leo looks up curiously from drawing on his napkin, while Charlotte just shovels another bite of pancake into her mouth, completely oblivious, humming happily.
"I..." I take a breath, letting it out slow, the familiar weight of their combined focus settling on me, a focus that once felt like scrutiny but now feels like the safest embrace in the world.
"I’m pregnant."
The words hit the table, silencing the chatter instantly. For a heartbeat, no one moves, the air thick with stunned silence.
Then Ryker lets out a whoop so loud it startles Charlotte into a fresh round of giggles. Ethan surges out of his chair and around the table, hauling me gently into his arms, spinning me carefully like I'm weightless, mindful of my belly. Bastian just leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, smiling that rare, small,realsmile he saves only for us, his eyes filled with quiet satisfaction. Leo’s eyes go wide behind his glasses. "Another one?" he asks, sounding slightly awed.
"Knew it!" Ryker declares, pointing a syrup-sticky finger. "Another sister! Or a brother! Or twins! Hell let's fill this place up! Get a whole damn football team!"
"You’renotnaming them after weapons," I warn him, pulling back slightly from Ethan’s embrace, though his arms stay securely around me. Leo nods solemnly in agreement.
"Not even a little?" Ryker pleads, giving me puppy-dog eyes that are ridiculously effective.
"Not even a little."
"Don't listen to him, Angel," Ethan murmurs, resting his hand gently over mine on my stomach. "Though he's not wrong about filling this place up. We intend to keep you barefoot and blissfully pregnant for the foreseeable future."
Ryker snorts. "Damn right. Pretty soon the kids are gonna outnumber us. We'll need reinforcements."
Ethan kisses me breathless, warm and loving. Bastian’s hand settles possessively on the small of my back, a silent assertion. Ryker starts playfully arguing about potential baby names with a three-year-old, who insists 'Wolfy' is a perfectly good name for a boyora girl. It’s chaos. It’s messy. It’s perfect.
I rest a hand protectively over my belly, over Ethan's hand, my heart full to bursting.
Five years ago, I didn’t think I’d survive. Five years ago, I didn’t even dare to dream about moments like this. I thought I was broken beyond repair, that the darkness Kolya had wrapped me in was permanent. That love—real, fierce, safe love—wasn’t meant for people like me, people who carried shadows.
I certainly never imagined the beautiful whirlwind that followed that Maldives proposal, the three of them, fiercely impatient, insisting we get married before Charlotte arrived. 'No way is our baby coming into this world without her momma being officially ours,' Ryker had declared, practically vibrating with possessive energy, and Ethan and Bastian had readily agreed.
We'd needed one name for the legal papers, a practicality they all immediately decided should be Bastian's, our anchor. But the quiet civil ceremony we held just weeks later, overlooking the turbulent Pacific under an impossibly blue sky, wasn't really about the law.
My vows weren't just spoken to Bastian Cross; they were declarations woven between all three intense gazes, promises made heart-to-soul that bound us together in a way no piece of paper ever could truly capture.
But I was wrong about being broken beyond repair. The scars are there, yes, faint lines on my soul, but they don't define me. They are reminders of battles fought and won, of survival, of the strength I found within myself and with them.
We fought for this. We bled for this. Weearnedthis. Every smile, every laugh, every shared breath in this noisy, chaotic, wonderful life.
Home isn't just this house, beautiful as it is. Nor is it safety behind locked doors and state-of-the-art security, though we have that too. Not even the endless ocean outside or the smell of pancakes and coffee in the air. Home lives in Bastian’s steady hands guiding me, in Ryker’s wild grin making me laugh, inEthan’s endless heart lighting up my world. It echoes in the sound of our children's infectious laughter through the halls. It’s the promise of the new life growing warm and safe inside me. It’s the war we fought together, and we won.
I press a kiss to Ethan’s cheek, steal a stray piece of bacon off Ryker’s plate just to annoy him, and let Bastian pull me firmly into his side, surrounding me completely.
Let the world try to come for us. Let the shadows linger at the edges.
We’re ready.
We’re home.
And we’ll fight every damn day to protect it.
Epilogue 2: Ghosts Don't Stay Dead
