My fingers tighten around the phone 148

Ethan’s POV
The rhythmic beeping of machines had become my constant companion, marking time in this sterile purgatory. I stood at
the foot of Aria’s bed, watching her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, my own lungs constricting with each labored movement of hers.
“Alpha,” the doctor whispered, her voice barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. “She’s stable for now, but I still
can’t visualize the babies. I can’t detect their heartbeats anymore either, so I have no way to know what’s happening
inside her body. If she crashes again, I’ll have to force delivery.”
Her words dropped into the pit of my stomach like ice, freezing my insides with dread. Forcing delivery now could save
Aria, but our twins might not make it. Aria won’t forgive me.
The weight of this decision crushed against my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I ran my hand through my hair,
pulling slightly at the roots as if the physical pain might clear my head.
“If her condition deteriorates critically,” I finally managed, my voice like gravel scraping against concrete, “I authorize
emergency delivery as her pack Alpha.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, like ash and regret.
The doctor’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied my face. I recognized that look—clinical assessment mixed with
something dangerously close to pity. Whatever she saw in my expression must have convinced her of my resolve,
because she nodded once, sharply, before turning to murmur instructions to the nurse beside her.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to add, “She was conscious for a moment earlier. We spoke briefly.”
The doctor spun back toward me, surprise erasing her professional detachment. “She regained consciousness?”
“Yes.” I held her gaze, willing her to understand what I couldn’t fully articulate—that this tiny thread of hope changed
everything. “She’s still in there fighting. She hasn’t given up, so neither can we.”
I gave Aria’s limp hand one final squeeze before gently placing it back on the crisp white sheets. My thumb traced the
delicate blue veins visible beneath her pale skin, memorizing the pattern as if it were a map I might need to find my way
back to her.
The hallway outside felt too bright, too loud after the hushed sanctuary of Aria’s room. My boots squeaked against the
polished floor as I made my way toward my father’s wing of the hospital. It was well past visiting hours, but nobody
dared stop the Alpha as I strode through corridors that had become frighteningly familiar over the past week.
Aria’s fragmented words tumbled through my mind like shards of broken glass, cutting deeper with each repetition. “It’s
always been you.” What the hell did that mean? The confusion thrummed against my temples, a persistent, maddening
rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
“I can smell your distress from here,” my father called out the moment my hand touched his door. “She’s worse, isn’t
she?”
The privacy screen blocked us from each other’s view, but his senses were still unnervingly acute despite his illness.
“She woke up,” I said as I rounded the screen, keeping my voice carefully steady. “Just for a minute. Said some things I
can’t make sense of, then crashed again.”
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Moonlight bathed my father’s skeletal form as he sat by the window, turning his silver hair luminous against the darkness.
I stood silently at the foot of his bed, waiting. This was our way—sometimes we’d share space for hours without speaking,
the silence more comforting than empty platitudes.
“The Moon Goddess cradles her in her silver hands,” he murmured, gaze shifting momentarily to the crescent visible
through the window. “Aria possesses strength beyond what you can see. Her thread isn’t meant to be cut so soon.”
The fragile thread of my composure snapped clean. “Seriously?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat, sounding more like a wounded animal than anything human. My nails dug half-moons into my palms as I battled the urge to punch the wall.
He adjusted his position, wincing slightly, and I couldn’t help noticing how his hospital gown billowed around his frame
like a sail without wind. Those shoulders that once carried the weight of an entire pack with effortless strength now
appeared fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch.
1/2
“I want to meet the boy,” he said suddenly, his voice carrying a trace of the natural command.
I frowned, momentarily confused. “What boy?”
“Lucas.” He fixed me with that penetrating stare I remembered from childhood. “Aria’s son.”
I shrugged, surprised by the request. “He’s staying with Zoe tonight. He needed to sleep in a real bed, eat a proper meal.
This place was draining him. He’ll be back tomorrow to see Aria.”
My father nodded decisively. “Good. After he visits his mother, bring him to me.”
Something protective flared in my chest. “Why the sudden interest?” I questioned, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.
The steel frame creaked slightly under my weight.
He regarded me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, his narrow shoulders slumping further.
“I’m tired, Ethan. Just do as I ask. Return to Aria now, and bring Lucas to me tomorrow.”
“I won’t let him become a pawn in some power game,” I warned, my voice hardening. “He’s just a child.”
“Ethan.” He spoke my name with the full weight of Alpha authority, causing my spine to straighten instinctively. “Trust me
in this, as I have trusted you in many things.”
Our eyes locked in silent communication. I knew my father—he wouldn’t harm a child or use him callously. Whatever his
reasons for wanting to meet Lucas, they weren’t malicious.
“Fine,” I conceded, rising to help him back to bed. “But I’ll be right there with him.”
He gripped my forearm with surprising strength as I guided him across the room. “Return to your love,” he murmured as I
helped him settle against the pillows. “She’ll need you when she wakes.”
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