Page 19

19

Luca

I wake up to pain. It’s the first thing I register, a deep, searing fire licking through my shoulder, spreading like poison through my veins. My body feels wrong, too heavy and not completely mine. Moving though, is a big mistake. Agony rips through me, tearing up my spine, locking up my muscles so hard I scream.

The noise feels foreign, like it isn’t even coming from me. My throat burns, my voice hoarse as if I haven’t used it in a while. A rapid, shrill beeping erupts around me, all of my senses on overdrive, making it nearly impossible to process anything other than the pain thrumming through me.

Something shifts beside me, the rustle of movement, the click of a machine and then cool fingers press against my wrist. “Oh, I’m so happy that you’re awake.”

I force my eyes open, wincing at the brightness. The world tilts, my stomach lurching, and it takes me a few seconds before I can focus on the person standing next to me. A doctor is checking one of the monitors, glancing over my vitals, adjusting something near my IV. He’s acting like all of this is routine, like it’s just another normal day but none of this feels normal.

“It was a bit touch and go for almost two days,” the doctor continues, jotting something down on the chart at the foot of my bed.

Two days? That makes no sense. I blink, disoriented, struggling to grasp onto the last memory I had. But I can’t think of anything. I’m in so much pain and have no idea why. “Where am I?”

The doctor looks up, offering me a tight smile. “You’re at Brick Ridge Hospital, just at the edge of the city.”

Brick Ridge. That’s an hour away from home. I try to sit up, but the pain in my shoulder slams into me, making my vision blur.

A low, pained whimper slips from my lips and the doctor’s face softens. “Easy,” he says, adjusting my pillow before pressing a button that makes the bed recline slightly. “You’re still healing. You were severely dehydrated and bleeding pretty badly, but we’ve got you patched up. You’ll be sore for a while, but you’re going to be okay.”

“How…” My voice breaks, my throat tightening, panic starting to settle in. I try to swallow, but my mouth feels like sandpaper. “How did I—?”

The doctor tilts their head, flipping through their notes. “Honestly? It was a miracle.” He meets my gaze, studying me. “You had enough strength to walk in here and ask for help.”

“I did?”

He nods. “Yeah, you were in rough shape, but you made it through the front doors. We were able to get you stabilized quickly.”

That’s when the panic really sets in. I don’t remember any of that—getting here, walking into the hospital. Hell, I don’t even remember why my shoulder hurts so damn much. The last thing I remember is the needle sliding into my skin, the numbness dragging me under, the weight of exhaustion swallowing me whole.

Everything after that is gone. My chest tightens, the room closing in, my body trying to piece together a timeline that doesn’t make sense. I should be home with my pack, not in a hospital an hour away from home. I swallow against the panic clawing up my throat. “Why…” My breath shakes. “Why would I be here?”

The doctor pulls up a chair beside my bed, crossing one leg over the other, clipboard balanced on his knee. “I was hoping you could help me with that answer.”

I’m still trying to piece everything together, still fighting past the fog in my head, the lingering disorientation of waking up in a hospital an hour away from home with no memory of how I got here. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. That I wouldn’t just be patched up and sent on my way.

The doctor exhales, flipping a page on their notes before their eyes flick back to mine. “A bite removal operation is something that would have been heavily monitored. It requires a full psych evaluation before and after, a detailed medical review, and at least a 72-hour hospital hold before the patient is released.” His gaze shifts pointedly to the bandage on my neck. “Your wound was too fresh. And while it was expertly done, none of the hospitals in this city or the surrounding areas had one scheduled.”

The nausea that had been sitting in the back of my throat since I woke up threatens to spill over. My body locks up, muscles clenching against the panic that’s clawing its way up my spine. I knew what I was doing when I went to that doctor. I knew the risks. I just hadn’t truly considered what came after. The doctor studies me carefully, watching every little reaction, searching for something. “Let’s start with your name, shall we?”

I hesitate. There’s a part of me that wants to lie, that wants to give them some fake name, some excuse to make this go away faster. But that wouldn’t change anything. They already know something’s off.

“Look,” the doctor continues when I don’t answer. “I don’t want you to get hurt, but you’ve endured something that is both illegal and highly dangerous. Whoever did this to you was extremely skilled, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

I force myself to swallow. “My name is Luca.”

The doctor nods, humming under his breath, satisfied for now. “That’s great, Luca. I’m glad you’re healing well. And I think congratulations are in order.”

I blink, my stomach twisting violently at his tone. “What?”

“You’re pregnant.”

It takes a second for the words to process, to push through the static in my brain, and then they hit like a fucking freight train. Pregnant? No, that’s not—that’s not possible. My hands shake as I clutch the blanket, a gasp tearing from my throat. “That’s not—I was on birth control.”

“While we were assessing what we could, I noticed that you had the shot. But it must have failed. Because the test results are clear.”

“Are you sure?” My voice breaks, my fingers clenching the sheets, my stomach twisting so violently I think I might be sick. My entire world tilts, a horrible realization creeping in at the edges.

The doctor’s brows knit together, my reaction clearly not what he expected. “Yes, I’m sure. You’re about one to two weeks or so? You’ll start showing in another week or two and we’ll be able to determine the sex at that point. Honestly, I’m surprised the child even made it with all the drugs that were in your system.”

One to two weeks. I do the math fast, my stomach roiling as I go over the dates, the nights, the fucking horror of it all. That timing puts me right back at Blake’s house just before my first heat which overlaps with something else. The last time Hudson fucked me.

It could be any of the Keller’s or Maceo’s. Or… it could be Hudson’s.

A pained sound rips from my throat before I can stop it, something small and helpless, something I don’t even recognize as mine. My body sways, my vision swimming, the heart monitor spiking wildly beside me.

“Easy,” the doctor murmurs, watching me carefully now, something edging into concern. “Everything will be okay—just as soon as you tell me what happened to your neck.”

The words barely register because I’m still stuck on the fact that I’m pregnant. And I have no idea who the father is. I’m silent for several moments, trying to find the right words that won’t throw suspicion my way. But every explanation ends up with the doctor knowing that I wasn’t coerced into this surgical procedure. “I… I don’t remember,” I whisper, barely managing to get the words out. “I just… I need to see Grayson. He’ll know what to do. He’ll explain everything.”

The words leave my mouth, a desperate attempt to reach out, to anchor myself to something familiar, something real. But there’s nothing. No phone, no way to contact anyone. I don’t even remember anyone’s numbers. I was so focused on getting out, on getting rid of Hudson’s claim, that I hadn’t thought beyond the immediate moment. I hadn’t thought about what happened after.

He gives me an almost pitied look before pushing to stand. “I can’t help you then, Luca. You, as an Omega, should know how serious this is. I had to file it with the police. They’re going to have some questions for you, alright?”

Fuck . I knew this was a possibility. The second I woke up in a hospital, I knew. I knew the second I felt the bandages on my neck, the sterile sting of antiseptic in the air, the way the machines monitored every beat of my heart. I knew the second I realized that I didn’t get here on my own. But knowing it was a possibility and hearing it confirmed are two entirely different things.

I am in deep fucking shit. If there isn’t a whole-ass miracle, I’m going to end up in jail or worse. But that’s not even the biggest problem. Even though I won’t have to feel Hudson in my head anymore, even though his claim is gone, severed, erased from my skin—if this baby is his, everything else will go to shit.

I lower my hands to my stomach, my fingers shaking as they press lightly over the still-flat expanse of skin. Too early to tell. Too early to know. But not too early for the truth to sit there like a fucking time bomb, waiting to go off. I send a silent prayer, a desperate plea, a whispered hope to whatever cruel universe decided this was my fate.

Please.

Don’t let this baby be Hudson’s.

The drugs are mostly out of my system now, but I can still feel their lingering effects, leaving my limbs sluggish, my thoughts clouded in static. My shoulder aches beneath the bandages, a dull, persistent throb, but it’s not the pain that unsettles me. It’s the absence.

The space in my mind where Hudson’s bond used to be is hollow and unfinished. My Omega instincts still search for something that isn’t there, something that was ripped away and will never return. It’s a wound I can’t soothe, a pain that doesn’t fully register yet, like my body refuses to accept that it’s finally gone. But through the emptiness, there’s something else. The men I’ve grown to love and the bonds I have with them, their emotions spilling into me.

Grayson. Luther. Blake. Even Maceo, though more distant, is there. There’s love, but also frustration, desperation, and something else that simmers just beneath the surface. They know something is wrong.

I breathe in slowly, letting their presence steady me, letting it push away the creeping fear that slithers into my ribs, tightening its grip with every second I spend alone. I don’t know how much time has passed, how long I’ve been lying here with nothing but the beeping of the machines to keep me company, but I know they’re searching for me.

My thoughts twist, taking a sharp turn down a dark road. Would they still keep me if this baby is Hudson’s? Would they still love me?

How would joint custody even work? Would Hudson fight for it? Of course, he fucking would. He’d never let something he considered his go that easily. The courts might favor him, might see me as an unfit Omega because I ran, because I fought back, because I tried to sever something they believe is sacred.

Would I have to hand over my child to him?

A sharp, nauseating wave of fear rushes up my throat, making it hard to focus but I shove it down just as the door opens, the doctor stepping inside first. It’s the two figures behind him that makes my blood run cold. Detective Ward and Peyton. I recognize both of them as detectives that handled Luther’s case so there’s no escaping my fate now.

Ward’s expression is tight with something like sympathy, like he already knows exactly how this conversation is going to go. Like he already feels sorry for me. But Peyton? Peyton looks like he’s about to rip me apart.

Peyton snorts at the way I flinch, slowly dragging the blanket up over me. “The Keller pack just can’t keep you out of trouble, huh?” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Paying for a damn bite removal while the investigation is still open. Bold move.”

“This wasn’t because of Luther or Grayson.” My voice is rough, strained from exhaustion and pain, but I hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the way my hands shake beneath the thin hospital blanket.

Peyton barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? Then who was it? Maceo?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against my face. “Or maybe it was that fucking Omega because lord knows he’s rolling in money. Who gave you permission to do that bullshit?”

I snap. “No one did!” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, my breath hitching on the last word, but fuck him. Fuck him for acting like I needed someone to sign off on this, like I wasn’t strong enough to make this decision for myself.

Peyton clicks his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “So, you just thought you’d run off and do it yourself? Who did it, Luca? Who was the doctor?”

I can feel Ward’s eyes on me, watching, waiting, gauging whether I’m about to break. He hasn’t said anything but when I flick my gaze toward him, I see the warning there, the silent message telling me to be careful.

Ward steps closer, his voice softer than Peyton’s but still laced with warning. “Luca, this is really serious. Getting a bite removal performed without permission comes with serious fines and charges.” He pauses, giving me a moment to process before he continues, “You’re looking at thousands of dollars in legal fees, drug charges, and maybe even community service.”

I swallow down the panic, forcing my expression to stay neutral before leaning back against the pillows.

Peyton scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re quiet? You think staying silent is gonna save your ass?”

I shake my head, refusing to answer, refusing to give him what he wants. I’m not saying a damn thing. Not until they give me to my mates.

Peyton lets out a sharp exhale, clearly irritated that I won’t crack. He glares at me for another second before stepping back, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake off his annoyance.

But I don’t care. Because no matter what charges they throw at me, no matter what kind of legal bullshit I have to deal with next—legally, I am no longer claimed by Hudson Ellis.

And damn, that feels amazing.