Page 17

SOREN

T he smell of blood clings to the air. Hers .

She is strong and beautiful and perfect. Pushing. And she's losing so much blood. It's soaked into the sheets, into the towels and tissues, my hands.

Olga, the nurse, has a tragic look about her as she stares down helplessly at a pale Seraphina, who looks barely to be breathing at all.

"The dystocia is causing a hemorrhage and the baby is having difficulty coming out by himself when the mother is in a coma.

Her condition is not suitable for a normal c-section birth now. We could cut the baby out?—"

"Say that again," I snarl, my voice dropping to something lethal. The wolf inside me thrashes, struggling for control, to fix this, to protect her. But there is nothing to fight, nothing to kill. She is slipping away through my fingers and I can't lose her. I won't.

Olga swallows, shifting uncomfortably. "She's lost blood, too much of it. If we do not cut the baby out, her condition will only worsen. We do this and the child might yet live?—"

"And my wife?" My fingers tighten around Seraphina's. I turn my gaze on the doctor standing at the edge of the bed, keeping her legs open.

She pales but purses her lips. "It is common practice with difficult deliveries. There will be little complications with the babe."

Again, with the depraved insinuation that all I care about is the baby in Seraphina's womb. My mouth twists with rage and in the blink of an eye, I have the front of the woman's scrub in my fist, pulling her up so close, I see the tiny hairs on her cheek. "She dies, you die. Do you understand me?"

She trembles. "She's already?—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll tear your throat out. You will find another solution or I will have you carved up in the same manner you have suggested."

The woman shudders and for a second, I see my reflection in her eyes—something wild and monstrous, barely holding itself together.

"Alpha can offer blood for transfusion," Olga interrupts, before I can rip the doctor apart. "Since feeding it to her doesn't work, we'll need direct volume replacement. Alpha's blood may work for an Omega's body. We need to start now."

"Soren," Seraphina breathes and I drop the doctor, moving to her side instantly. Seraphina's eyes are unfocused, sweat glistening on her pale skin. A tear slips down her cheek, and a moan of pain escapes her lips.

I brush damp hair from her forehead, my fingers gentle where my heart is anything but. She leans into the touch, fragile and weak, and I know—I'd do anything. Give anything.

"Take mine," I say. "Take however much you need to help her."

Drawing my blood is the easy part.

Letting them force me from the room is not.

Rayne and Eric shove me into the hallway, their excuses grating against my nerves. You're in the way. They can't work on her if you keep threatening to kill them. They think I'll be useful out here? Pacing the fucking floors like a caged animal while she fights for her life?

I hadn't wanted to leave Seraphina's side. It kills me not to be able to see her. Touch her. Instead, I'm here, drowning in despair and the knowledge that this should have never happened.

Dystocia .

Even now, Callahan haunts her. Even now, that bastard still finds a way to hurt her. Why did everything they shared always end up putting her near death?

It didn't take long for Eric to find the rogue by Seraphina's descriptions.

And the bastard did sing when he saw whose hands he had been delivered into.

I didn't mind getting my hands dirty with his blood.

Frankly, I wish I could say I remembered it and enjoyed doing it.

But it came as an instinct the moment he confessed to heading the attack that had left her dying on the streets.

An attack orchestrated by Kaida Callahan to hide Ronan's one mistake.

Of course, I haven't told her. Seraphina is a smart woman. She'd see through any half-truths. If I tell her Matt is dead, she'll ask why. If I tell her we found him, she'll demand to know what else we uncovered. She'd look me in the eyes and know. And I can't let her.

I wonder how many more lies I'll have to tell to keep her safe from that cursed family.

Heels click distantly and I turn around in my pace to find Lilia barreling towards us, worry in her light blue eyes. She wraps an arm around Eric's side in a firm hug. "I came as soon as I heard. Is she alright?"

I cannot respond without having the murderous urge to rip the door from its hinges and ask why the fuck the light outside the theater still blinks red. So I don't.

"She'll be fine, Soren. Your panic isn't helping anyone," Rayne mutters without hiding her irritation. "I could've handled the surgery, but you forbade me from going near her."

Of course, I did. Once, I had been beguiled by her ruthless nature, entranced by how similar we both were. Had Rayne been in there, it would very much have been a case of saving the child and letting the mother bleed out.

A cry—that of a child's pierces the air.

The doors to the theater swing open before I can so much as take a step, and Olga is the first to emerge. Blood stains the front of her uniform, dark and wet, but her expression is one of relief.

"It's a boy?—"

I shove past her, barely registering the footsteps that echo behind me. I shove past the hands reaching to stop me, past the wailing child being held by the doctor. The acrid scent of blood is strong enough to choke me but...

My knees weaken at the sight of her. She's...okay. Pale, exhausted...but alive.

"Hey," she croaks, barely able to manage a smile without looking half dead. "You're here."

If Callahan were here, I'd fucking kill him.

My fingers move, even if I'd sworn to stay away until she wanted me to, even if I'd fought Kaelin for control over our urges and yearning for this woman. I wipe the tear from under her eye with a thumb. "Where else would I be?"

Tired violet eyes search mine and she swallows before whispering, "He's blonde."

Confusion furrows my brow at first before I look back at the nurse holding the crying child.

I still. It isn't his blonde tuft of curls reddened by blood, or the bow-shaped lips that distinctively resemble Callahan's.

But it is his teary vivid blue eyes with a slight tinge of violet that makes warmth fill my insides.

It is the arch of his brow, his small pert nose and ears.

Only Seraphina could create something so beautiful. So... "He is perfect."

Her lips quiver. "They know he isn't yours. They will call him a bastard."

My gaze shifts towards the door. Rayne's eyes are wide, incredibly wide as she looks from the child to me. Lilia looks slightly discomfited, but she hides it behind a genuine smile. The nurses know it. It is only a matter of time before everyone knows it, too.

I had hoped he would take Seraphina's hair. It was often a terrible thing for a child to grow up with a constant reminder that he doesn't belong to his father. But this changes nothing. He is Seraphina's and so, he is mine.

Wiping the tears from her face again, I whisper, "I'll kill them all." When she frowns, I add, "Or I could dye my hair blonde. There's a blonde somewhere down the family line, I'm sure."

Her chest shakes from wet laughter. "You would look horrible." She tries sitting up. "I want to hold him."

I take the child from the nurse and he quietens, watching me like I am the most fascinating thing he has seen. I suppose I am.

It is strange. I held Tova many times when she was a child, but this feels different.

It's like holding a small piece of Seraphina and another piece of Ronan.

But how could something so innocent, so pure belong to Ronan?

How could he have made a life so beautiful with her when all he did was break things and ruin them?

The nurse's eyes linger too long on the boy's hair before rising to mine and searching for even a strand of fair hair. "Get out," I snap, and the wailing comes anew. "All of you."

Not waiting to see if they've obeyed, I return to Seraphina's side. I set him down beside her and turn my focus on the window while he suckles on Seraphina's nipples.

Lucky fucker.

Gods, I must be out of my damn mind.

"Landon," Seraphina says, forcing my gaze back to the child. He's still sucking, but his eyes are closed, his small fists clenched. Seraphina's eyes meet mine, open and more vulnerable than I've ever seen them. "Thank you, for being here. For saving me, again."

If she allowed it, I'd kiss her and tell her that if she so asked, I would give more than my blood and life force.

I run a thumb over her knuckles once in response, reassurance, before drawing up, blood-crusted hands by my side. "We will make the gifting ceremony and revelry a public affair, as opposed to our earlier plans."

Seraphina stiffens, clutching the babe to her chest. "Are you crazy? It is bad enough that anyone who lays eyes on him will immediately know he isn't yours, and now, you wish to subject him to the judgment of the general public? To the packs out there who seek to find our weaknesses?"

"I will name Landon my heir."

For several seconds, Seraphina stares at me, aghast. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Soren, but I cannot possibly accept this. Your heir ought to be your blood. You do not make these decisions on a whim?—"

"A whim?" I echo, moving closer. "This is the only way we protect him. And you. Making him my unquestionable heir will solve the matter of illegitimacy?—"

"And you?! You would forgo whatever future you could have with someone else for me? Will you sacrifice everything you are and have for my sake, continuously? Do you have no desire to meet a woman of your choice, fall in love and have your children with her?!"

"I don't care, Seraphina! I don't care about anyone else! I only care about you! Are you so blind that you do not see that everything I have done, I have done for you?!"

She flinches, like I have slapped her across the face. And I see her visibly shut down and pull away from me. Her eyes are a cold, closed off blue as she regards me like I am not entirely there."I am tired."

Fuck. It might as well be a confession. Perhaps I have made her feel caged, bonding her child with me. I take a step forward, unsure what to say to fix the uncomfortable silence and tension, but I don't find the words.

A sudden knock on the door startles us both and Lilia peeks her head inside a second later. She gives Seraphina a sheepish smile. "Congratulations! I absolutely hate to interrupt, but there is a bit of a situation out here. Baldwin is here."

I spare Seraphina a long look—one she doesn't return—before trudging out.

Baldwin, head Alpha of the Western Packs, stands by the counter in a pale green suit engaged in a conversation with Eric. His eldest son, Quinn looks as pissed as I feel, his blue eyes snapping to me the moment I emerge from the theater.

My steps falter as I stare at Quinn. I've met the man sparsely on the few occasions he represented his father during the Summits. We never had a conversation longer than introductions and an exchange of pleasantries, and perhaps, that is why I never noticed.

His eyes, they're like moonstones. One might almost call them violet-blue.

In that moment, Head Alpha Baldwin turns and I catch a glimpse of fear in his eyes before it is quickly masked by a cool calm.

Suddenly, everything clicks. That night at the summit, his sudden interest in Seraphina, asking about her mother, his expression when he heard her mother's name, and the strange invitations we've gotten over the last few months to revelries hosted in the West, even if they've always been neutral and refused to take sides in the war.

It wasn't that Baldwin wanted to get into Seraphina's pants. It's that he is the man her mother had an affair with.

Baldwin is Seraphina's father.