The night was unnervingly quiet.
Too quiet for a Montgomery estate fortified with top-level security and surveillance. Clair sat in the private library, legs crossed beneath her, an untouched cup of herbal tea cooling on the table beside her. The scent of chamomile lingered in the air, but peace was a foreign concept tonight.
Her eyes scanned the baby journal on her lap. She had scribbled down name ideas earlier, then struck them out just as quickly. Austin had said he liked the names that they had previously picked for the babies, and they had stayed with her.
The Montgomery kids. Strong. Timeless. Fearless.
Like their father.
But something about the air tonight didn't sit right.
Her fingers twitched instinctively toward the holster at her thigh—a precaution Austin insisted on ever since the assassination attempt three weeks ago. Clair had taken self-defense training seriously. Pregnancy hadn't made her weaker. If anything, it lit a fire inside her.
She wasn't just protecting herself anymore.
She was protecting her family.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
Her heart thudded once—but she stayed still, alert, controlled.
It was Marcus, one of Austin's trusted men. His face was pale, jaw clenched.
"She's gone," he said, voice low. "Isadora escaped transport. She killed two agents."
Clair stood slowly, the blood in her veins turning to ice.
"Where's Austin?"
"Command center. But Clair—" he hesitated. "We believe she's coming for you."
Clair nodded, calm despite the dread curling in her gut. "Let her."
---
An hour passed. Clair refused to leave the library. It wasn't stubbornness—it was strategy. The room was reinforced, escape-proof, and laced with silent alarms. But more importantly, it had one entrance.
A perfect trap.
She paced silently, gun in hand. Every creak in the hallway sounded amplified. Her fingers itched with tension. Her babies moved—just a soft flutter—and she stilled, a hand over her stomach.
"I've got you," she whispered.
Then came the sound she was waiting for.
A whisper of movement. Then the door creaked, and in stepped the devil herself.
Isadora.
She wore all black, hair tied tightly, a scar now marking her jaw from their last encounter. Her eyes glinted with hatred—and desperation.
"Well, well," Isadora purred. "Alone, pregnant, and still so naive."
Clair didn't answer. Her gun was already up.
Isadora tilted her head. "Do you think you'll actually shoot me, nurse?"
"No," Clair said. "I know I will."
Isadora lunged with a knife, a blur of motion. But Clair didn't flinch.
She pulled the trigger once.
The bullet tore through Isadora's forehead before her blade ever reached Clair.
Silence.
Isadora's body crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Blood pooled, thick and red.
Clair exhaled shakily, lowering her weapon.
Marcus and three guards burst in moments later, guns raised—but it was over.
Clair stared at the body. "Tell Austin it's done."
---
The aftermath was a mix of chaos and calm. Austin found Clair sitting on the estate balcony, wrapped in a thick robe, her expression unreadable.
He dropped to his knees before her, pulling her into his arms.
"I should've been there," he murmured.
She touched his face. "No. I needed to do it. For me. For us."
Austin's chest ached with pride and pain. She had faced a killer alone, and emerged not just alive—but stronger.
"Isadora's gone," he whispered.
"Yes," Clair nodded. "And now… things can start falling into place."