Chapter 6 - Siege
The world narrowed down to two things: the blinding pain of the contraction and the sound of gunfire echoing from the floor below.
Nathaniel didn’t panic. He moved with the terrifying efficiency of a man who had planned for every possible disaster. He grabbed the emergency medical bag from under the sofa—of course he had one—and helped me lower myself to the thick rug by the fire.
"Look at me, Grace," he commanded, his voice steady and clear, cutting through the noise. "Focus on my voice. You are safe. The security team is trained for this. They will not get past the library doors. Do you understand me?"
I nodded, gritting my teeth through the wave of agony. Outside the heavy oak doors, I heard shouting. The heavy thud of a body hitting the wood. A single, sharp gunshot that made me flinch.
"Open the door, Cross!" Jonathan’s voice screamed from the hallway, distorted and mad. "Give me the papers and the kid, and I might let you live! You think your money can stop bullets?!"
Nathaniel ignored him. He was on the phone again, barking orders into the receiver, his eyes never leaving my face.
"ETA on SWAT? Five minutes? Too slow. Breach the west wall. Flank them. And get a medic in here now—she’s in labor!"
He knelt beside me, wiping the sweat from my brow with his sleeve. Another contraction hit, stronger this time. I screamed, clutching his hand so hard I was sure I broke his fingers. He didn’t flinch.
"That’s it," he encouraged me, his voice soft but urgent. "Push, Grace. You can do this. You’re the strongest woman I know. Push!"
BANG!
The door shuddered in its frame. Splinters of wood flew across the room. Jonathan was trying to shoot the lock off.
"Grace," Nathaniel said, his voice suddenly deadly calm. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, black handgun. I stared at it, shocked. I’d never seen a gun in real life before. "I need you to be very brave for just a little longer. I need you to keep pushing. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens... you do not stop. Do you hear me? That baby needs to be here, safe, in your arms, before they get in."
He stood up, moving to stand between me and the door, his feet planted shoulder-width apart, the gun held in a perfect two-handed grip. He looked like a knight from a storybook, standing guard over his queen.
CRACK!
The lock gave way. The door burst open.
Jonathan stood there, wild-eyed, holding a smoking gun. Behind him were two large, brutal-looking men in leather jackets. Lila was there too, cowering behind them, her face streaked with mascara.
"There you are," Jonathan panted, grinning like a maniac. "You think you’re so smart, Cross? You think you can take everything from me? My money? My son? Well, guess what? If I can’t have it..." He leveled the gun directly at my swollen belly. "...nobody does."
Time slowed down.
I saw Nathaniel’s finger tighten on the trigger. I saw Jonathan’s smile. I saw Lila’s eyes widen in horror as she realized what he was about to do.
And then I felt it.
The pressure. The release.
A tiny, piercing cry filled the library, cutting through the tension like a knife.
The baby was here.
Jonathan froze. His gun wavered. For a split second, the monster was gone, replaced by a man staring at the sound of his newborn son’s voice.
It was all the time Nathaniel needed.
BANG! BANG!
Two shots, perfectly placed. The two thugs went down without a sound.
Nathaniel moved faster than I could see. He crossed the room in two strides, his gun pressed to the back of Jonathan’s head before the other man could even blink.
"Drop it," Nathaniel said, his voice so low and dangerous it didn’t sound human. "Drop the gun, or I blow your brains out all over your whore’s dress. I promise you, Jonathan. I’ve killed men for less than threatening my family."
Jonathan’s gun clattered to the floor. He sobbed, collapsing to his knees.
Lila screamed, turning to run, but she slammed straight into the chest of a SWAT officer who had just breached the window. Within seconds, the room was filled with blue uniforms and tactical gear. Medics swarmed me, cutting the cord, wrapping my tiny, screaming son in a warm blanket.
Nathaniel didn’t watch them take Jonathan away. He didn’t watch the medics. He turned immediately, rushing back to my side, dropping to his knees beside me. The gun was gone. The monster was gone. In his place was just a man, terrified and relieved.
He looked at the baby in my arms. His son—his godson, he corrected himself mentally, though his eyes told a different story. Tears streamed down his face.
"He’s perfect," Nathaniel whispered, reaching out a trembling finger to stroke the baby’s soft cheek. "You did it, Grace. You were amazing."
I looked from my son’s perfect, tiny face to Nathaniel’s tear-streaked one. The gunfire was gone. The danger was over.
"We did it," I corrected him softly. "We’re a family now, Nathaniel. Remember?"
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He looked at me. Really looked at me. And in that moment, surrounded by police lights and chaos, in the library of a mansion that had become a fortress, I knew.
The storm was over. And the rest of our lives were just beginning.
