My fingers tighten around the phone 169

Ethan’s POV
The SUV tore through the night, headlights carving a desperate path through the darkness as David pushed the vehicle
to its limits. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of panic through me as I cradled Aria’s limp form in my arms, her face
ashen in the intermittent glow of passing streetlights.
“Faster,” I growled, unable to keep the edge of desperation from my voice as I monitored her rapidly deteriorating
condition. The fluid leaking between her legs had soaked through her pants and was now seeping into the leather seats
beneath us. Our unborn daughters were coming too soon, forced into the world by Sarah’s brutal kick.
“I’m going as fast as I can, sir,” David replied, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he navigated the winding
forest roads with terrifying precision.
I pressed my fingers against Aria’s neck, counting her heartbeats. Too fast, too weak. Her skin felt clammy against my
touch, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.
“Mom?” Lucas’s trembling voice pulled me from my thoughts. My son—our son—sat pressed against my side, his small
fingers clutching Aria’s hand with surprising strength. His eyes, so like my own, were wide with a terror no child should
ever have to experience. “Is she going to die?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. “No,” I said firmly, refusing to even consider the possibility. “Your mother is the
strongest person I know. She’s going to be fine.” I had to believe it. The alternative was unthinkable.
I shifted Aria slightly, trying to make her more comfortable while keeping pressure on her belly. Each small moan that
escaped her lips was like a knife twisting in my gut. After everything we’d been through—finding each other after six
years apart, discovering Lucas was our son, finally building the family we deserved—I couldn’t lose her now. I wouldn’t.
My mind raced with tactical decisions even as I held her. I’d left Blake and Martinez to handle Sarah’s body and secure
the area, ordering additional warriors to their location as backup. If Victor and Emma were truly on their way, my men
needed to be prepared. Part of me—the feral, vengeful part that Felix controlled—wanted nothing more than to be there when they arrived, to tear them apart with my bare hands for what they’d done to my family.
But my place was here, with Aria and Lucas. Nothing else mattered.
“Dad?” Lucas’s voice pulled me back to the present. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay in the car like you said.” His bottom lip
trembled slightly, though he tried to hide it. “Are you mad at me?”
I looked down at my son, this brave, impulsive child who had risked everything to save his mother. Without his
intervention, Sarah might have succeeded in her plan to deliver Aria to the rogues. He’d acted on pure instinct, with a
courage that belied his six years.
“No, Lucas,” I said softly, wrapping one arm around his small shoulders while keeping Aria secure with the other. “I’m not mad. You were incredibly brave. You saved your mother when the rest of us couldn’t.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his
head, breathing in his familiar scent—a perfect blend of Aria’s sweetness and my own bloodline. “You’re going to make
an amazing Alpha someday.”
His chest puffed up slightly at the praise, but his eyes remained fixed on Aria’s pale face. “She’s still bleeding,” he
whispered, fear threading through his words.
I nodded grimly, tightening my hold on her. “I know, buddy. That’s why we need to get her to the hospital as quickly as
possible.”
Aria stirred in my arms, her eyelids fluttering without fully opening. A small whimper escaped her lips as her hands moved instinctively to her belly. Even unconscious, her maternal instincts remained strong—protecting our daughters to
her last breath.
“It’s okay, love,” I murmured against her hair, unsure if she could hear me. “I’ve got you. All of you. Just hold on a little
longer.”
The hospital’s emergency entrance finally came into view, its harsh fluorescent lights a beacon of hope in the darkness.
David hadn’t even brought the SUV to a complete stop before I was already moving, gathering Aria in my arms and
rushing toward the entrance.
“I need help!” I shouted the moment the automatic doors slid open. “She’s been attacked.”
Medical staff swarmed around us immediately, a gurney appearing as if by magic. I laid Aria down with reluctance,
already feeling bereft without her weight in my arms. A nurse tried to pull me back as doctors began assessing her
condition, rattling off medical terms that meant nothing to me.
“Blood pressure’s dropping rapidly—”
“Fetal distress in both—”
“Prep OR One stat—”
1/2
I refused to release her hand, a growl building in my chest when someone suggested I step back. “I’m staying with her,” I
insisted, my voice leaving no room for argument.
The lead doctor—a tall, stern-faced woman with graying hair—fixed me with a hard stare. “She needs an emergency Csection immediately. Every second counts. You need to let us work first.”
I nodded tersely, jogging alongside the gurney as they rushed her toward the elevators. Lucas hurried to keep up, his
small hand clutching the hem of my blood-soaked shirt.
“Dad?” His voice trembled with uncertainty.
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I scooped him up without breaking stride, settling him on my hip as we entered the elevator. “It’s going to be okay,” I
promised, wondering if I was trying to convince him or myself.
The doors to the surgical floor opened, and suddenly Aria was being whisked away through a set of heavy double doors marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to charge after her, to demand
they let me stay at her side. Instead, I found myself standing helplessly in the hallway, Lucas’s weight against my chest the
only thing keeping me grounded.
A nurse approached us, her expression sympathetic but firm. “Sir, perhaps you’d like to clean up while you wait?” She
gestured to my appearance, and for the first time, I became aware of the state I was in—my clothes soaked with Sarah’s
blood and Aria’s amniotic fluid, my hands stained crimson.
I nodded numbly, suddenly conscious of Lucas pressed against all this gore. What kind of father exposes his child to such
horrors?
Just then, my mother appeared at the end of the hallway, her face drawn with worry as she hurried toward us. Without a word, she took in the situation—her son covered in blood, her grandson frightened, her daughter-in-law fighting for her
life behind those sterile doors.
“Go,” she said firmly, already reaching for Lucas. “Get cleaned up. I’ll watch over him and keep an eye on things here.”
I transferred Lucas to her waiting arms, surprised by how difficult it was to let him go. He clung to my neck for a moment
before releasing me, his small face solemn as he nodded his understanding.
I had just reached the restroom door when a commotion behind me made me whirl around. A nurse burst through the
surgical doors, her face tight with urgency.
“Vital signs are dropping rapidly!” she called out, eyes scanning the hallway. “Who’s the patient’s family?”