Page 125 of Anchor
Tuck softened. “Don’t be sorry. Just do better.” He turned to the tech. “Print me everything. I want fetal measurements, dopplers, and cervix length. I’ll flag a follow-up in two weeks.” Then he looked back at them. “Print a pic of their baby girl for the momma and dad. Y’all are gonna be just fine. But we do this my way.”
Reid smiled faintly. “Your way or no way, huh?”
Tuck tipped his head. “Damn right.”
Claire closed her eyes for a moment. Not long ago, she’d been sitting by Reid’s ICU bed, uncertain if he’d ever wake up. Now here they were, watching the shape of their future squirm beneath a wand and listening to its heart beat like a war drum.And for the first time in weeks, she let herself believe they might make it.
Reid satbeside her on the narrow couch in the post-exam room, Claire’s hand still resting across her abdomen like she was trying to hold the sound of the heartbeat inside her. He couldn't stop looking at her. Not at her face, but at her body. Her too-thin wrists, the slight curve of her belly, the faint smudges under her eyes where sleep had clearly been second to everything else.
He had seen blood spill from her body before. Seen her broken and gasping in his arms. He’d rather take another knife to the gut before he watched that happen again.
“You have to eat.” His voice surprised even him. It came out low, not unkind, but edged.
Claire glanced at him. “I do eat.”
He didn’t let her dodge. “Not enough.”
“I’ve been?—”
“Working.” He shook his head once. “I know. You’re brilliant. Tuck showed us your chart. I saw your numbers. And I saw that screen.”
She didn’t argue.
Reid shifted, turned toward her, and took her hand in both of his. “That’s our little girl in there. And I know you’ll fight for her when it matters because that’s who you are. But right now, it matters. Every hour. Every bite. Every pill.”
Her eyes filled, not with argument but exhaustion.
He gentled his tone. “I need you to promise me. You protect what’s ours. And I’ll protect you.”
She nodded slowly, blinking. “Okay.”
“No shortcuts,” he added, softer now. “I mean it, Claire. I didn’t crawl my way back to lose either of you.”
She pressed her forehead to his, breath warm. “I hear you.” She kissed the tip of his nose.
FORTY-TWO
CLAIRE’S OFFICE – 1230 HOURS
Her office had floor-to-ceiling windows and a mountain view Kieran had personally called “non-negotiable.” It had sleek, intelligent lighting, soft paneling, and a long glass conference table she’d only used once.
Claire reached the double doors and stopped cold. They were open.
Inside, Kieran Chase stood at the far window, hands in his pockets, spine tight.
And next to him was a man she didn’t know as well, but knew by name and reputation.
Lincoln Collier, CEO of Chase Security’s Denver division.
Both men turned as she entered, and she knew immediately something was wrong.
Kieran wasn’t a pacer. He only paced when something big was happening and he didn’t like the way it felt. “Claire,” he said carefully. “Close the door.”
Her stomach dropped. She shut the door without a word, walking to the edge of the table. “Tell me.”
Kieran looked at Lincoln. He didn’t sugarcoat it. “Overnight, we got a ping. Tiki in DC Tech confirmed the encryption chain. Tessa Wu from Tree Town One picked up the trailing IP. It’s credible.”
Claire's throat went dry. “Vos?”
