Out on the mission with the rest of The Boys, he had been sharp, focused—at least at first. But somewhere in the middle of it all, that familiar knot of unease began to twist in his gut. It was sudden and inexplicable, the kind of bad feeling he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. His chest grew tight, and his hands felt unsteady on his weapon. Something was wrong. He could feel it deep in his bones.

And the worst part? He couldn’t even explain why.

But the thought kept gnawing at him—something had happened to you and the daughter the two of you had recently welcomed into the world. The more he tried to convince himself it was nothing, the stronger the dread became, clawing its way up his throat and making it harder to breathe. It didn’t matter that he had no real reason to think anything had gone wrong. His gut was screaming otherwise.

So, the second he got the chance—once the mission was handled—he was gone. No hesitation. No second thoughts. He barely registered the calls from the others as he made his hasty exit, his boots pounding against the pavement. His heart was hammering in his chest the entire way back, his fingers twitching with the urge to go faster.

By the time he reached your shared apartment, he barely slowed down enough to shove his key into the lock. The door swung open with a slight creak, and his eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for any sign that something was wrong. His pulse was still racing as he finally spotted you.

“Hey… Everything alright here…?”

His voice came out low, slightly breathless, as though he was trying to sound casual but failing miserably. His eyes were locked onto you, scanning every inch of you for any sign of distress. His gaze then flickered toward the small bassinet in the corner, relief barely beginning to settle over him when he saw your daughter sleeping soundly.