Page 172 of Riot

“Hi, baby,” I said softly. “You hungry?”

He nodded. Riot handed him over like he weighed the world, and I scooped him into my arms, holding him close. His little hand rested against my chest like he belonged there.

“You did it,” I said, looking up at Riot.

He ran a hand down his face, voice gravel. “Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you.”

His eyes glistened, just a flash, and he looked away.

I warmed up leftovers and fed Jasir spoonfuls of pasta while he clumsily sipped from a water bottle. Then I gave him a bath, the bathroom echoing with soft splashes and the scent of lavender soap. He barely made it through towel-drying before crashing into the bed I’d made for him in the guest room. I kissed his forehead, tucked in his lion beside him, and turned off the light.

I didn’t know much about taking care of kids but I had taken care of the women in Boaz’s basement. I was willing to learn and show this baby boy all the love he wasn’t going to receive from two bitter parents.

I knew that the decision to keep Havoc and Mimi’s son alive was hard for Riot. But I was glad he made the right choice. He was growing as a man and I was proud to be apart of that grow with him.

When I came back out, Riot was standing at the window, shirt off, city lights casting shadows over the scars on his back.I didn’t say anything. Just walked up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my cheek to his spine.

He turned slowly, curling around me like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He kissed me, slow, deep, and searching. Like he needed to taste something real.

His nose brushed my cheek, then he inhaled deeply against my neck.

“I knew it,” he whispered.

I pulled back, brows furrowed. “Knew what?”

“You’re pregnant.”

I froze.

“What?”

He looked down at me with a rare softness. “I can smell it. It’s familiar sweet smell. Your body’s changing. I could feel it when I kissed you.”

My heart thundered. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

“Say something,” he murmured.

I blinked. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It’s faint, but yeah. You’re carryin’ my child.”

I had always had irregular periods because of my PCOS. I was late but I just figured all of the stress of everything was getting to me.

But just like that, everything I was holding in broke free. The fear. The hope. The impossible bloom of love that felt too dangerous to speak out loud.

I buried my face in his chest and cried.

Not from sadness.

From everything.

From the terrifying beauty of building something new… after everything that tried to destroy us.

He held me while I shook, his hands gentle on my back, fingertips tracing soothing circles. When my breathing steadied, he tilted my chin up, thumb brushing away the tears.

"You scared?" he asked, voice low.

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