Chapter 240

Almara’s Pov

Arthur tries the handle on the door first, and when it doesn’t budge he thrusts his entire body into it. The door’s hinges cave slightly but don’t break. Just as he rams his shoulder into the door a second time, a loud clap of thunder erupts from the sky muffling the brute force of his efforts at trying to push open the door.

I stand guard and watch chaos break out all around us. As of now, every wolf, vampire, and familiar is preoccupied with the enemy in front of them. I think it helps that no one wants to come near the building considering bodies are being thrown out windows and hurled down at those below.

The temperature suddenly drops and the sky darkens. Another roll of thunder, a flash of lightning, and then a shower of rain cascades in sheets down from the sky. Our fur instantly becomes sleek.

Arthur continues banging his body against the door. I keep watch on the madness, watching those slip and try to stick their landings. A few familiars that appear to have aquatic-like features aren’t bothered by the rain and actually use it to their advantage.

Still, with an average of two against one the familiars are struggling to keep up- but that isn’t saying much considering their level of skill.

I feel the ricochet of Arthur slamming his body against the door vibrate my insides and then a snap, like a rubber band being pulled and let go. The color drains from my face as liquid rushes down my legs that’s warmer than the rain soaking through my clothes.

My knees go weak and I can no longer see straight. Not good, not good, I try to force myself to focus why Arthur continues with the door. The last thing we need is to be blind-sided and attacked.

Actually, the last thing we need is for this to be happening right now, Lily says and I hate to agree. Despite the water gushing from me and the torrential downpour from the sky, my throat is dry.

“Arthur,” I barely manage to cough out, but of course, he doesn’t hear me. “Arthur,” I say again with more whine.

“What is it?” He asks hurriedly, quickly scanning the area around us.

“My water broke,” The words fumble out and don’t even sound like they belong to me. I keep my eyes fixed forward, so I don’t see Arthur’s face but I notice the second pause of shock. Then I feel him smash into the door again, this time it opens.

He pulls me inside and the silence engulfs us as a drastic change. My ears are ringing as if still expecting to be bombarded with screams, growls, and thunder. “Your water broke?” Arthur repeats, though his words hit me harder than any of the previous sounds that were just assaulting our ears.

I nod, “It’s time.”

I’ve seen Arthur handle multi-million deals, snakes for politicians, and combat. He’s made people older than him squirm under a single gaze, he’s built himself up from nothing, commanded a crowd, and never once backed down from a fight. But I have never seen this look on Arthur’s face now.

“We’re going to be fine,” I tell him and realize that he should perhaps be the one comforting me, but the truth is- I’ve gone through this before, in an arguably worse condition. Arthur has not.

Arthur nods a bit too eagerly like he’s trying to convince himself. “Yeah, no. Totally. I know that,” he says and begins pacing around the tiny room that we’re in which I only now realize is a storage closet.

The room is smaller than the cell we had slept in and rather than rectangular, it’s a shaped like a cylinder.

Metal crates line the wall, whatever once filled them is now gone. The entire room is almost empty except for a mop, which now seems oddly ironic given that we may actually need it once the whole ordeal is finished.

It’s a tall room, it goes up at least ten feet wit some string lights lazily dangling above. As I’m looking up at them, they flicker on. I look back at Arthur who found the switch and then look around the room, seeing what we can use to help us I presume. His eyes settle on the mop.

On the other side of the the room is another door. Arthur tries the handle and that too is locked. “Watch out,” he tells me. I step aside though there isn’t much room to go. He places each palm on the side of the metal crate and scoots it across the stone floor, awful scratching sounds which causes my skin to crawl. As he moves the crate, a couple of fleece towels fall from the top.

I snatch them up and grip them in my palms at the first round of contractions kick in. Please let this be a quick labor, I send up a mini prayer to the moon goddess.

He lines the metal crate up to the door we broke in from and then takes the mop in his hand. He brings the wooden handle to his chest and then slams it down on his knee splitting the mop in half. I watch as he jams the bigger half directly under the door handle so that the knob can’t even be turned.

“Let’s have a baby,” Arthur says taking the towels from my hands and spreading them on the floor.

A few hours later and the contractions have sped up considerably. I went from walking around to doing different stretches and seated positions, to wanting to curl on my side in the fetal position and cry. At least this is how I know we’re progressing well.

Arthur’s been rubbing my back and helping me when I want to move or change positions. Every so often he brushes my hair aside and kisses me check. This would be nice if not for the howling screams happening just beyond the broken-in door.

The rain is still coming down and some of it is leaking inside, dripping down from a small opening at the top of where the door should be securely shut, but isn’t from Arthur’s determination.

I watch the lone water droplets roll down the length of the door where they land with a small plot and form a puddle on the ground. This is how I’m counting my contractions. Every five raindrops, a new contraction is brought on lasting about the time it takes for the water to roll down the door.

My hand is in Arthur’s and he doesn’t complain when I squeeze it, even though I know I’m gripping hard. “You are the most badass Luna I could have ever asked for,” he tells me. I roll my eyes. “I’m serious,” he says and I can tell by his tone that he is. “Who else would be able to give birth in a storage closet in the midst of a war?”

“I haven’t given birth yet,” I point out to him through clenched teeth. That was the worst one yet. “Next time, let’s try to have a normal delivery,” I say.

Arthur nervously laughs. “Let’s take it one baby at a time,”

“Get me a towel to bite on,” I tell him. Arthur looks around for a fresh towel, but I know the only ones left are the ones on the ground. “Now,” I tell him and squeeze my eyes shut. He rips one up from the ground, my leg hitting the cold concrete.

I shove the towel in my mouth and let out a muffled scream.

“Is the pup coming?” Arthur asks, trying to keep his nerves still. I can’t speak through the pain, so I nod. Arthur jumps into action and pulls my wet pants off of me.

I bite the towel, push, and scream. I throw my head back in exhaustion and prepare to do it all again. I continue this process in between labored breaths for at least another thirty minutes. It’s around that time that I hear Arthur gasp.

“I see a head!” Arthur yells. Just then something hits the door outside. I ignore it and give another push, biting the towel so hard that I’m sure I’ve bitten right through it.

I hear a cry and I don’t know if it’s mine, Arthur’s, or the baby’s. I give another push and then let my body collapse. “Almara, we have a boy,” Arthur says and I wearily lift my head to see Arthur holding a squirming little thing in his arms and just like when I had Grace, the pain is instantly gone.

“Let me hold him,” I say. Arthur moves like water, flowing quickly over to me, and just as gracefully sets him down on my chest. His little cries fill my heart with joy. He’s perfect.