Chapter Fifteen

I pivotand sweep my leg out to catch Ramin behind the ankles. He goes down, and a shot pierces the darkness. The muzzle flare gives me a split-second glimpse of Wadid aiming his AK into the bunker.

"Fire from your eight o'clock!" I shout.

Bullets spray the back wall, but I can sense my brothers now. They're already out of the bunker, crouched low. Balling my hands into fists, I snap the zip ties. Pain explodes across my shoulders as the chain wraps itself half around my torso.

I grab it, yanking hard enough Jalal lets out an "oof" as he pitches into me.

Light floods the battery—so much for our advantage—but with a quick twist, Jalal's neck snaps, and he's down.

Ripper tackles Wadid, sending his AK clattering to the ground. Mashaal slams the stock of his rifle to the back of Rip's head. The blow lets Wadid flip him and wrap his hands around Rip's throat.

I grab Mashaal's jacket and throw him against the wall before advancing on Ramin. The asshole scrambles for his pistol.

"Never…underestimate…the blind man," Dax says, each word punctuating a punch or a kick to the guy currently trying to strangle Ripper.

Ramin's fingers close around the butt of his Glock, but I slam my boot down on his hand. Bones crunch under my sole. "Not today, fucker. You tried to kill my brothers. You took my wife and she's in fucking labor!"

Dax wraps one arm around Wadid's neck and presses his other hand to the back of the man's head. "This is for touching Evianna and Cara," he says and, with a satisfying crack, severs his spinal cord.

Rip pushes to his feet and rubs his hands together as he advances on Malik. "Remember me? You called me an idiot."

"I am sorry! Very sorry!" Malik cries.

I pry the gun from Ramin's broken fingers. "Rip? You haven't had target practice in a while."

He chuckles, and I toss him the Glock.

"Run, fucker," he says. Malik only makes it three steps before Rip pulls the trigger.

I wrap my fingers around Ramin's neck and lift him far enough off the ground to slam him back down again. All the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh and he chokes on his own tongue.

"Count yourself lucky, shitstain. My wife needs me."

His eyes widen a split second before I slam my boot down on his neck. The snap should be more satisfying. But the gunfire in the distance has us all on edge.

Rip passes me the Glock. "Go, Ry. We're right behind you."

I should check on them. Make sure they're okay. But all I can think of is Wren. And our baby.

There's no time to dig the comms unit out of my shoe. Or retrace all my steps. I studied the layout of this place for an hour and memorized a dozen different exfil routes.

Sprinting for a rusty ladder at the far end of the first passageway, I start to climb. More shots, and Connor shouts something that might be, "Clear!"

The setting sun almost blinds me as I reach the top of the ladder. The steady thump of the Blackhawk gets closer. Graham drags a body by the neck, but startles when he sees me. "Shit. Inara took out the guy with Wren. She's on the way to the helo with West."

"Rip and Dax are behind me. Make sure they're okay!"

I double-time it toward the sound of the helicopter.

"I need…shit…I need to push!" Wren cries.

Fuck. She can't have the baby here. There's no doctor. We need more time!

I burst through the gates to find her on the ground, Inara at her back, holding her. West kneels at her side, and Ford holds his phone close to the SEAL's ear. "Joey," he says, "you have to talk West through this."

"Wren!" I fall to my knees next to her, and she starts to sob. Her arms wind around my neck, and she holds on as her entire body shakes. "Sweetheart, you can't have the baby here. We have to get up. The hospital?—"

"Not…my choice," she whimpers. "She's coming. Now!"

Joey clears her throat over the speaker. "Um, someone has to check if the baby's crowning. Or…God help me, turn on video and let me see."

West squeezes his eyes shut for a beat, then turns to me. "Ry, tell me you're not going to snap my neck for…uh…touching your wife."

All the blood drains from my face. I can feel it. West has more medical training than any of us, but this isn't a broken bone or a bullet wound. It's Wren.

"Have you ever done this before?" I ask.

"No. But that's why we have Joey."

"Hey," she squeaks. "I've never delivered a baby either."

Wren whimpers and wraps her arms around her belly. "Not helping," she manages.

"West, check for the baby's head. Now."

The SEAL lifts Wren's skirt and leans down. "Uh, yeah. That's a head."

I take Inara's place, letting Wren lie against my chest with my legs on either side of her. Raelynn, Ronan, and Vasquez come through the gates at an all-out sprint, and skid to a halt when they see us.

"Well, shee-it," Raelynn says. "You two. Go back and get all the emergency blankets and water you can find. And the med kit."

Ronan and Vasquez double-time it back up the hill as Joey encourages Wren to push.

"One, two, three, four, five," she says. "Now breathe, mama. Until the next contraction, just breathe."

West has both of his hands under Wren's skirt. I don't know how to help her. She's clutching my fingers so hard, my knuckles crack. She's so tiny. And I'm…not. What if the baby…what if she can't get her out?

"West? What's happening?" My voice doesn't sound right. If he doesn't answer, it's bad.

"Head's out. One shoulder too. She's got Wren's hair," he says. "I'm ready when you are, Wren. One more push. Maybe two."

"Uh huh." Wren's so weak. So tired. I press a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm right here, sweetheart. I've got you."

"Never…doing this…again," she pants. "Oh, shit. Here comes another one!"

Joey counts her down, and by the end, Wren's screaming. I'm so focused on West's face, I know the moment the baby's out. I've never seen him look so…awed.

"Got her," he says softly. Raelynn crouches next to him and slides a gray blanket under our daughter. Joey walks West through how to cut and tie off the cord, and when he rubs the baby's chest for a moment, she lets out a tiny little wail.

"Is she…?" Wren is so exhausted, she lets her head fall back against my shoulder.

"Meet your daughter," the SEAL says. He lays the baby on Wren's chest, and we stare down at her. All the books, all the articles I read online late at night while Wren slept…they all talked about how intensely you would love your kid only seconds after meeting them for the first time. But I didn't understand until now.

The baby cries until Wren strokes her chin, then she suddenly stops and blinks bright blue eyes up at us.

She's not afraid. Doesn't recoil when I give her one of my fingers to hold. She's so small. Fragile.

"She's perfect," I whisper. "You're perfect, little bird."

We're dirty, exhausted, and bloody. But as the baby stares up at her mother, I sweep my gaze over the men and women standing around us. We're surrounded by family, the sun setting in the distance, and I press a kiss to my wife's cheek. "I love you, Wren."