What followed was the most brutal, exhausting, terrifying experience of my entire life. And I’d been attacked by rogues multiple times. I’d survived being chased through the woods by people who wanted me dead. I’d faced down enemies and threats that should have killed me.
None of it compared to this.
The contractions came faster and harder, each one feeling like my body was being torn apart from the inside. The pain was beyond anything I’d ever experienced, beyond anything I’d imagined was possible. It consumed me completely, left no room for anything else.
Knox held my hand through all of it, his face pale but his voice steady as he counted and encouraged and told me how amazing I was doing. He’d positioned himself at my side, close enough that I could grab onto him, far enough that he wasn’t in the medical team’s way.
“You’re a liar,” I gasped between contractions, sweat dripping down my face. “I’m not amazing. I’m dying. I’m literally dying right now.”
“You’re not dying. You’re giving birth. There’s a difference.”
“The difference is academic at this point. Both involve extreme suffering and wanting it to be over.”
Dr. Hartley’s voice cut through my haze. “Keep that attitude, Luna. Humor will get you through this better than panic.”
“My attitude is the only thing keeping me from murdering everyone in this room,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
“Channel that energy into your pushing.”
Another contraction hit and I screamed, bearing down with everything I had. The pressure was unbelievable, building and building until I thought I might actually split in half. The monitors beeped frantically. Nurses moved around me, adjusting things, checking readings, speaking to each other in medical shorthand I couldn’t follow.
“Good!” Dr. Hartley said when the contraction ended. “That’s perfect. You’re progressing well. Keep pushing just like that when the next one comes.”
“I hate this,” I groaned, my head falling back against the pillows. Every muscle in my body ached. “I hate everything about this. Why did anyone ever decide that this was a good way to reproduce? Why couldn’t we have evolved to lay eggs? Eggs seem so much simpler. You just sit on them for a while and then they hatch. No screaming involved.”
Knox made a choked sound that might have been a laugh or a sob, possibly both. “You’re doing incredible, baby. I’m so proud of you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
“Save the pride for after the baby is out. Right now I need you to suffer with me. Are you suffering?”
“More than I’ve ever suffered in my life. Watching you in pain is killing me.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. We’re in this together.”
The pushing continued, contraction after contraction, each one demanding everything I had and then asking for more. Time lost all meaning. I couldn’t tell if minutes were passing or hours. My entire existence narrowed down to the rhythm of pain and rest, push and breathe, Dr. Hartley’s calm instructions cutting through the haze.
“You’re doing great, Luna. The baby is moving down. Just a little more.”
“I don’t have a little more,” I sobbed during a brief respite. “I’m empty. There’s nothing left.”
“Yes there is,” Knox said firmly, his face appearing in front of mine. “You are the strongest person I have ever known, Lina. You survived losing your parents when you were fifteen. You survived five years completely alone. You survived everything life has thrown at you. You can do this. I know you can.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll be right here. Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together, remember?”
I looked at him, at this man who had broken my heart and put it back together, who had lied to me and loved me and driven me absolutely insane. This man who was my mate, my partner, the father of my children. His gray eyes were bright with unshed tears, his jaw set with determination, his whole being focused on me and only me.
I could do this. For him. For our baby. For our family.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
At some point, the energy in the room shifted. The nurses started moving faster, their expressions more focused. Dr. Hartley’s voice took on an edge that hadn’t been there before. I was too exhausted to understand what it meant, too focused on pushing to process the change.
“We’ve got increased bleeding here,” Dr. Hartley said to one of the nurses, her tone clipped and professional. “Get me another bag of fluids and have blood standing by just in case.”
“Bleeding?” I managed between pushes. “Why am I bleeding?”
“It’s normal during delivery,” Dr. Hartley said, but I could hear the tension underneath her calm words. “Just keep focusing on pushing. Let me worry about everything else.”
