“Don’t take her from me.” The words came out rough, almost like a growl, from a man who looked like he belonged anywhere but inside a children’s hospital.

The words came out rough, torn from somewhere deep in his chest, more instinct than speech.

Every head in the emergency room turned.

He looked like a storm that had walked inside.

Tall. Broad. Leather vest soaked through with rain. Tattoos climbing both arms like scars that had decided to stay. His knuckles were raw, split open like he’d been hitting something—or someone—long before he got here.

And in his arms—

A newborn.

Too small.