They said I needed to breed.
No one warned me I’d become obsessed.
Trinity was supposed to be a vessel—just a human with sharp eyes and a body built for obedience. She offered me an heir in exchange for freedom. Simple. Cold. Forgettable.
But then I tasted her.
Felt her break open around me.
Heard her whimper my name like a prayer.
Now she’s not just carrying my heir — she’s carrying two.
Twin daughters marked by my blood and her defiance.
And if anyone threatens them?
Threatens her?
I’ll show them what kind of monster they made.
They’ll call them miracles.
I’ll call them mine.
Because she doesn’t just belong to the contract anymore.
She belongs to me.
