“I can’t wait any longer,” I said, two hours, one shower, and three sandwiches later. Standing in the tiny steel kitchen, I accidentally scattered the bag of chips I was picking at all over the counter. Honestly, I wasn’t even hungry; I was just trying to distract myself.

“Ella,” Sinclair sighed, reaching for my wrist.

“No!” I said, moving away. “They’re being selfish! They know I’m dying to know!”

“Let them take their time!” Sinclair urged, standing. I glared at him; he was also looking longingly at the hallway.

“See?” I said, pointing. “You want to go too.”

Caught, he grimaced. “Well, obviously I want to talk to them, Ella,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’s my brother, just as she’s your sister—I want to know as badly as you do.”

“Then let’s go!” I laughed, slapping the table and grinning at the baby, who looked at me curiously. I cooed at him. “Let’s go see your auntie, your Roger, and your new cousin!”

“Ella,” Sinclair warned, stoic. “It’s not right. They’re entitled to their time alone!”

“Oh, whatever,” I said, waving a hand and grabbing the half-empty bag of chips. “She’s probably hungry. She’s a pregnant woman! She needs sustenance!”

Before he could stop me, I charged down the hall, determined to see my sister and learn everything. “No, stop!” Sinclair called half-heartedly. I grinned over my shoulder; I knew he could stop me if he wanted to. I laughed, hurrying to the door, thinking my mate was just as nosy as I am—he just had more qualms about indulging in it.

I rapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. “Hello!” I sang, sweeping into the room. My heart swelled with happiness seeing Cora lying on the bed, her head propped up against the pillows, her shirt slightly pushed up, and Roger pressing his ear to her stomach.

“Hey!” she said, smiling broadly. It did my heart good to see her, especially after how incredibly sad she’d been when she arrived at the bunker. As I crossed to her, I suddenly remembered the insane swing of the day.

My face fell as I remembered the morning attack—that I’d killed a man, ripped his bedroom apart…

“Ella,” Cora gasped, worried. Roger sat up, looking concerned.

“No,” I said, sitting down hard on the bed and smiling. Sinclair entered. “It’s just been a…big day, hasn’t it?”

Cora clicked her tongue, realizing she’d forgotten my morning in the excitement. She opened her arms for a hug. Sinclair closed the door and took the baby from me before I moved to Cora. Watching closely, Sinclair sat on the bed’s edge, the baby happily tucked against his arm. He asked, with a concerned mental nudge, “All right?”

I nodded happily and turned to Cora. “Come on,” I said, poking her. “Cheer me up! Distract me from the fact that my baby was almost kidnapped this morning by telling me all about your miracle.”

Cora laughed. “There’s not much to say yet, Ella,” she said. “I’m barely pregnant. If a woman came to me in this condition, I’d advise her not to tell anyone yet. A lot can happen in these early stages.”

“Not this baby,” Roger murmured definitively, returning his ear to her stomach. “This one’s strong!”

“How do you know?” she asked, laughing and brushing his hair away.

“Because,” he said, smugly, “the child has incredible genes—the paternal line is especially fierce, not to mention good-looking.”

Cora and I laughed; she swatted his head. He grinned.

Sinclair leaned toward his brother, curious. “Do you feel the bond, Roger?”

Roger’s face dropped, making my stomach twist. Cora noticed; she sat forward, worried.

“The bond?” she asked, remembering. “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember you talking about it.” She turned to Roger. “You can feel the same thing?”

“I can feel it,” he said, reassuringly, but then added, “But it feels…different to me than the way you described it with Rafe.”

“Well, the important thing is that you feel it, yes?” I said eagerly, wanting it to be all right. Sinclair took my hand, reassuringly.

“Ella’s right,” he said, looking only at his brother. “All bonds are different. If you feel it, it’s real. But what do you mean when you say it’s different?”

“Well,” Roger said, looking down at her stomach, “you could communicate with the baby from very early on. And you said you knew Rafe was a boy from the first moment you sensed your link…”

“You’re not getting a sense of the baby’s sex?” I asked, curious.

“No,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I feel the link, but I’m getting…less information, I guess.”

Sinclair put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, supportive.

“Do you think it’s because the baby’s half-human?” Cora asked.

“Is it?” I asked, looking at her and Roger.

“What?” Cora asked. “Ella, of course it is,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Well, I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “Some kids get more genes from their fathers than their mothers, and vice versa. Maybe it’s 90% wolf and 10% human, or the other way around. Or maybe it’s…a little Roger clone.”

Cora wrinkled her nose, but Roger grinned. I laughed at their reactions.

I looked to Sinclair, but he shrugged. “As far as I know, this is the first pregnancy of its kind,” he murmured. “Anything could happen.”

“Is it, though?” Cora murmured, her hands going to her stomach. She looked at me. “Ella…”

“What?” I asked.

“Well,” she continued, hesitating and glancing at Roger, “we know Roger is the father, because he can sense his bloodline. But…you don’t think it could be like…what Mom did? To our mothers? Where she took one of her embryos and put it in me, and then gave the father a nudge? This baby was probably conceived during that freak storm…” she said, biting her lip and looking at Roger, who went pale.

“No, Cora,” I said, grabbing her hand. “Mom asked Reina—and your mother, I’m sure—to carry us. They consented.”

“But what if,” she hesitated, “what if it wasn’t Mom? What if…it’s the god of darkness? Who also arranged for Rafe to be born? What if he…”

Cora bit her lip, looking down at her belly. “What if he arranged for this baby too, and because he’s a different kind of god from our mother—didn’t bother to ask me if I consented to it? What if this baby is not mine at all?”