Luca's POV
Second pregnancy is different.
Chasing a toddler while nauseous is hell. But also beautiful.
Kai doesn't understand why papa is tired and sick, but he tries to help—bringing toys, patting my stomach gently, being sweet.
"Good brother already," Rian observes, watching Kai cuddle carefully beside me.
"He's perfect." I stroke Kai's hair. "Going to be amazing with the baby."
This pregnancy is easier in some ways—I know what to expect, less fear, more confidence.
But harder physically. Kai is active, demanding, needs constant attention.
"Rest," Rian orders, finding me cleaning at eight months pregnant.
"Can't. House is a mess. Kai needs—"
"Kai needs his papa healthy. I've got everything else." He takes the cleaning supplies from me. "Sit. Please?"
I want to argue. But I'm exhausted.
"Okay. But only for a few minutes."
"However long you need." He helps me to the couch. "You're growing our second child. That's your job. Everything else is mine."
"You have Alpha duties—"
"I have family duties first." He kisses my forehead. "The pack understands. You and our children are my priority."
Kai climbs up beside me, laying his head on my bump. "Baba."
"Yes, baby. Little sibling in there." I stroke his hair. "You're going to meet them soon."
"Soon," he repeats, patting my stomach.
Rian watches us, expression soft. "My family. My everything."
At eight months, we find out the gender.
"Girl," the doctor announces. "Healthy baby girl."
Rian's face transforms—pure joy. "A daughter. We're having a daughter."
"Kai's getting a sister," I say, tears streaming.
That evening, we tell Kai. "Sister. Baby sister."
He looks confused. "Sissy?"
"Close enough." I laugh. "Yes, sissy."
Rian's extra emotional all evening. His hands constantly on my bump.
"A daughter," he keeps saying. "A little girl."
"You're excited."
"Terrified. What do I know about raising daughters?"
"Same thing you knew about raising sons. Nothing." I take his hand. "But you figured it out. You'll figure this out too."
That night, making love carefully—eight months pregnant, uncomfortable but needy—he's extra tender.
"Going to spoil her," he murmurs. "Our little princess."
"She'll have you wrapped around her finger."
"Already does. And she's not even born yet." He kisses my stomach. "Hi, baby girl. I'm your daddy. Can't wait to meet you."
Strong kick in response.
"She hears you," I laugh.
"Smart girl. Knows her daddy's voice." He continues talking to my bump, and I watch with overwhelming love.
This man. This life. This growing family.
Perfect.
A month later, early morning, my water breaks.
"Again," I groan. "Why does this always happen at dawn?"
"Because our children are dramatic." Rian's already moving, calling the doctor, getting ready. "Let's go meet our daughter."
Kai stays with Sara. We head to the hospital.