The contractions come fast, unrelenting, pulling you into a world of pain and focus. Barty is at your side, mask discarded, eyes dark and intense. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t falter. He is steady. He is the anchor in the storm.

Aria-Rose is elsewhere, safe under the watch of a trusted ally, oblivious to the battle unfolding in the hospital room. You’re alone with Barty and the life that will enter the world any moment.

⸻

The pain is sharp, rhythmic, relentless—but you are stronger than it. Ghostface has trained you to endure more than most, to move through fear, to focus when survival depends on it. Now, it’s survival in a different sense: the life of your child, the continuation of your legacy.

Barty’s hand grips yours tightly. “You’re doing perfectly,” he murmurs, voice low, steady. “Every breath counts. Every moment counts.”

*You manage a tired, pained smile$. “We’ve survived worse,” you whisper back.

⸻

Hours pass, and then there’s the moment—the first cry.

A boy. Tiny, fragile, yet astonishingly alive. His small fists curl instinctively, a sharp, desperate life that is yours to protect. You feel tears sting your eyes despite the exhaustion, a mix of relief, awe, and fear.

Barty leans down, brushing hair from your damp forehead. He presses a gentle, almost reverent kiss to your lips. “Alive,” he murmurs against you. “You did it. Both of you.”

You reach for him weakly, clutching his hand as if to anchor yourself after the storm. “Both of us?” you whisper, voice raw.

He smiles faintly, shadowed and dangerous. “You. Him. The future. All of it belongs to you now… to us.”

⸻

The baby is wrapped and cradled in your arms, small and fragile, yet somehow fierce, already drawing strength from your heartbeat and your warmth. You look down at him and feel the weight of responsibility and legacy pressing into your chest. Aria-Rose doesn’t know yet—her mother is now the protector of two lives, the trainer of shadows, and the predator that moves unseen through the night.

Barty watches carefully, proud but cautious, aware that his control has limits now. You are still Ghostface. You are still his apprentice. But the two children—the small, perfect, growing lives—change the rules.

He leans closer again, voice low, almost a whisper meant only for you. “You’ve become… unstoppable.”

You cradle the baby boy, exhausted, bleeding, but unbroken. You kiss his small head gently, and for a moment, all the fear, all the shadows, all the darkness melts away into a single, fragile heartbeat.

And in the shadows of the hospital room, you realize: your family—mother, daughter, son, and the dangerous presence of Barty—has changed everything. The city, the darkness, the legacy of Ghostface—it all waits outside.

But here, for these first fleeting hours, the night belongs to you.