I hated it. I needed to feel her presence, needed the reassurance that she was still fighting.
I thought about Lina. About the first time I’d seen her at her book café in Pine Valley. How she’d stumbled over her words when I walked through the door. How I couldn’t keep away after that, finding every excuse to visit, to see her smile, to hear her voice. How I’d been a coward and left her. How I’d found her again at Noah’s house, hurt and unconscious, and my entire world had shifted back into place.
I thought about our wedding. About the twins’ birthday party just a few months ago, how Thea had demanded a princess cake and Rowan had wanted a dragon and somehow Lina had managed to get both. About every moment we’d shared since she came back into my life. Every laugh, every fight, every whispered conversation in the dark.
I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t survive without her.
If Lina died, I would follow her. Not immediately, maybe. Not while our children still needed me. But eventually. Because life without my mate wasn’t life at all. It was just existence. Just going through the motions until I could join her in whatever came next.
Sarah and my parents and Noah and Hunt would raise our kids in a loving environment. I knew that. Our children would be cared for, protected, surrounded by people who loved them. But I wouldn’t be there. Not really. I’d be a ghost, a shadow of the man I used to be.
I shook my head, pushing the dark thoughts away. Lina wasn’t going to die. She was going to survive. She was going to wake up and yell at me for worrying too much and demand to see our daughter and everything was going to be fine.
It had to be.
I don’t know how many hours passed. Two, maybe three. Long enough that the coffee went cold and Sarah fell asleep with her head on my father’s shoulder. Long enough that Noah started checking his phone obsessively, probably updating the pack on what was happening. Long enough that I started to go insane with the waiting.
Then the doors opened.
Dr. Hartley walked out, still wearing her surgical scrubs. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes and her hair escaping from her cap. But when she saw us, when she saw me standing up so fast the chair nearly toppled over, she smiled.
“Luna is okay now,” she said.
I nearly collapsed with relief. Hunt caught my arm, steadying me.
“We stabilized her and stopped the bleeding,” Dr. Hartley continued. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’s a fighter. She’s in a drug-induced coma right now to help her body heal, so she’ll be unconscious for a couple of days. But she’s out of danger.”
“She’s going to be okay?” I asked, needing to hear it again.
“She’s going to be okay,” Dr. Hartley confirmed. “She’ll need time to recover, and she’ll be weak for a while. But yes, Alpha. Your mate is going to be fine.”
We all sagged with relief. Sarah burst into fresh tears, but happy ones this time. Noah clapped me on the back. Hunt grinned and muttered something about Lina being too stubborn to die. My father just stood there, nodding, his eyes suspiciously bright.
“And our daughter?” I asked.
“Your daughter is doing well in the NICU. She’s small, obviously, being six weeks early. But she’s breathing on her own and all her vitals look good. You can see her once we get you cleaned up and settled.”
That’s right. She was going to be fine. They were both going to be fine.
I closed my eyes and sent a silent thank you to whatever goddess had been watching over my family tonight.
We’d made it. We’d survived.
And soon, Lina would wake up, and I could finally introduce her to our daughter.
15
— • —
Lina
I was in the dark, alone, floating.
I didn’t know how long I’d been there. Time didn’t seem to exist in this place, wherever this place was. Minutes could have passed, or hours, or days. It all felt the same. Just endless darkness and the strange sensation of weightlessness, like I was suspended in nothing.
Voices reached me sometimes. Familiar voices that tugged deep in my chest, making me want to respond. But every time I tried to reach toward them, every time I struggled to break through the barrier between me and the outside world, my body sagged. Sank. Like I was made of lead and the darkness was an ocean pulling me under.
I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t know why.
