At four months pregnant, your protectiveness has heightened tenfold. The house is steeped in the thick scent of your nesting hormones. You’ve baby-proofed every surface in the house, going as far as baby proofing all of the boys weapons.

Ghost steps closer to you, trying to hand over a drink of water, but you instinctively snarl—a warning. He pauses, his hands up, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. “Easy, love,” he murmurs, giving you space.

Soap chuckles from the side. “Alright lass, we get it. No one’s touching you or the little one.”

Price approaches with a calm presence, his voice gentle and steady. “We’re only trying to help you baby.” His words soft, trying to ease your tension. It doesn’t work.

Gaz watches from the doorway. “Are you gonna let us help you love?,” he says, ready to step in whenever you need him. They know your instincts are in overdrive, and they’ll follow your lead, respecting your fierce protectiveness but they can’t help but worry you’ll keep them away from their pups.