Page 26 of Never Tamed (Bad Wolves #3)

Ren

F lora stumbles into my arms, and for a breath, everything else falls away. There’s only my friend and her panic.

We trip forward together, and I double down, locking my knees, keeping us both upright.

Her scent—salt and Japanese cherry blossom, threaded with sweat and exhaustion—wraps around me.

She’s lighter than she should be, and her belly is swollen against mine as I grip her tighter.

My throat aches with the burn of relief and the way my wolf howls inside me with triumph makes me lightheaded.

She’s okay. We weren’t too late. She’s alive.

I keep repeating it to myself to calm my frantic heart. We got to them. Maybe not in time but as soon as we could have. We did what we could.

Is it enough?

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into Flora’s hair. “I’m not letting go.”

Her knees buckle, and I think it’s just weakness at first. Until a warm wetness hits my foot.

I freeze. The scent’s unmistakeable. Blood?

Her fingers clutch my shoulders hard enough to bruise. “Ren,” she gasps, her face pale and slick with sweat. “Something’s wrong—”

It takes a heartbeat for a new sweeter scent to reach my nose, and when I look down, realization slams into me next.

Her water just broke.

The baby’s coming. There’s nothing we can do to stop it.

“Fuck.” I snarl. Not now. Not here.

I glance up at seeping stone and rusted bars. The reek of spilled gut rot and sewage threatens to blind my senses and the overwhelm of panic makes every second count. I’m wasting too many of them.

And each one I waste only heightens the panic. Adrenaline surges and my fingers tremble against Flora’s torso.

Mathis is at my side in a blink. His face goes hard as he takes in the spreading wetness beneath us. He finally blanches as realization sinks in.

Torin barks orders for the last cages to be ripped open, Noble herding the freed omegas toward the tunnels with the rest of the deltas and Dax… Dax is covered in blood, shaking, a storm of madness I can’t afford to look at right now.

“Ren,” Mathis snaps. His gaze is a mask of fierce determination. “We need to move her now. She needs help.”

Flora pants. “I don’t want to have my baby here. Please.”

She doubles forward during another swell.

“ Shit .”

Curses seem to be the only things able to pass my lips at the moment. I tighten my grip around Flora and nod. Her breathing comes short and ragged and her belly jumps underneath my arms, the muscles tightening.

We manage a single step forward and she gasps as her nails dig crescents into my skin. The sound tears through me worse than her claws ever could.

Shifting my weight, I try my best to keep her standing because I know that if she goes down, there’s no way I’ll be able to get her back up. My only hope is that that baby stays put until I can get her somewhere safer.

Adrenaline surges. This time, it isn’t enough. Mathis clamps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes before moving to Flora’s other side.

The sounds of rabid wolves clashing in the tunnels beyond echo from the stone. The air reeks of blood and sewage.

Get her somewhere safer and preferably cleaner .

Our next steps slosh through too many inches of water discolored with too many unmentionable, disgusting things. It didn’t matter so much getting down here. I followed the scent knowing what had to be done.

Now I know, but the details are clearer. The bodies we thread through, the ceiling pressing down on us, the reek I feel in my soul. The stench seeps into my skin.

Andras kept our people down here like rats packed into cages in a lab.

I’m going to break him. I’m going to make him pay for this.

“I can’t—Ren—” Flora stops and her eyes roll up, lips trembling. “I can’t stop the contractions. It hurts too much. But I can’t have my baby here.”

I nod. “You won’t. I promise.”

Another contraction tears through her, bending her body against mine. She screams this time, and I flinch.

Torin swears behind me while he rips through another lock. “Ren. Get her topside. We’ll hold the tunnel.”

“Got it.” My grip stays iron-strong around Flora.

Shadows peel from the walls as more of the Blood Moons rush us in both forms. Mathis growls out an apology before dropping his hold to launch at them.

Flora’s entire weight rests on me as I start to half-drag her through the darkness. My vision sharpens, but there’s no way I can move as fast as I need to, not with Flora stumbling every other step and me trying to avoid the chaos.

Her lungs work like bellows, her body trembling.

Bodies lie everywhere. The stench of death and sewage thick enough to make me choke. Dax is a nightmare ahead of us in his golden wolf form, carving us a path. His snarls are vicious and blood sprays as he adds more dead wolves to his ever-growing collection.

Flora freezes suddenly, another scream tearing from her as her stomach heaves.

Fuck this.

“Hold on,” I tell her and scoop the back of her legs up.

To my surprise, she’s so small, lifting her up isn’t hard at all. This werewolf thing really has its perks sometimes. It’s no worse than hauling a couple bags of groceries inside at the same time and I used to be a master at that.

The imagery helps. It takes some of the urgency from the moment and sharpens my thoughts.

Her head lolls against my shoulder, her breath shallow.

“Just a little further,” I say softly. “It’s going to be all right. I’m getting you out of here.”

She grits her teeth and forces a nod. “I can do this.”

The look on her face says otherwise and her worry is another scent in the air. I taste it, fear tingling my tongue. If something is wrong then I can’t help her. I can only try to get her out where there’s more breathing room.

The tunnels are a blur of violence and desperation.

Pitfalls gape where the stone floor has collapsed, slick with filth and slime. Twice I nearly go down, my feet slipping, but I’m able to catch myself before we both plummet.

She’s in enough pain.

The contractions come faster and each time she screams, the sound pierces my eardrums. My heart races faster than it ever has and skips over beats to leave me swimmy.

We got here in time. It has to be enough.

She’s okay. We weren’t too late. She’s alive.

The mantra stands.

When the tunnels widen and the air lightens, I sprint for the opening as fast as I can. There’s no ladder. The pinprick of light from the cloudy sky overhead is like a glimpse of a heaven I can’t reach. I glance left and right frantically.

My ribs constrict.

How the fuck am I going to get us both out without a ladder?

Without options, I shift Flora so she can hook her arms behind my neck and her legs around my waist.

“Don’t let go,” I command.

She whimpers in understanding, and I bend my knees. If I can lift her and carry her without help, I can surely jump and get us both out. Right?

I heave a sigh, bracing, and push. Cold air slaps my face.

The first time I jump, I only graze the top. Thank god it’s not a manhole. The two of us would never be able to fit at the same time. And since I’ve given my wolf almost every ounce of control I’d kept from her, I let her have everything. My eyes burn and with a growl, I jump again.

This time, I clear the landing.

Flora’s arms tighten and cut off my air. I land precariously on the edge of the grate, winter wind tangling my hair immediately.

“That’s it,” I whisper. “We’re okay.”

Spotting the car with the engine still running, I stumble toward it. Flora cries out again, her whole body seizing, and I know we don’t have much time. Her contractions are getting closer and more powerful. This baby is here.

“Hey! Hey!”

I jog forward and lift my arm to signal the delta in the driver’s seat.

He jumps out, running to open the back door. “Get her inside! Hurry.”

He helps take Flora off my back and no sooner does her rear touch the leather than she scoots back. Her shoulders press against the opposite window. The delta moves aside and grabs for water and a first aid kit.

Flora bends her knees and spreads her legs open wide. She’s tugging at her pants to get them off.

“Ren!” she yells.

“Right—” I partially shift my hand, claws extending, and help her rip at the fabric.

Her—well, her everything —is out in the open, and I can already see a dark patch of hair from the baby crowning.

I suck in my next breath.

Holy shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! Another wave of panic crashes through me and the tips of my fingers tingle where the claws sink in. I’m not good in this kind of situation. Give me a fight, and I’ll be able to pull a win out of my ass.

Motherhood? No. Definitely not.

I’ve barely ever been around kids.

Flora’s dark eyes search for mine. Blonde hair tangles around her face with filth and sweat and her cheeks are flushed.

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it hard enough to shatter bone through the next contraction.

“What do I do? What do I do?” I practically screech.

The delta returns with the first aid kit and only stares helplessly at the omega bearing down.

“What’s going on?” I don’t need to turn to know it’s Torin standing behind me, looking in. Especially when he gasps at what he sees. “You’re fucking kidding me. Now? She can’t—Not now!”

He’s just as horrified as I am.

“Shut up and help me!” My voice goes sharp, but I can’t stop it from shaking. “Go to the other side and hold her upright.”

He’s paler than I’ve ever seen him before, but he listens, rushing around the back end of the SUV to open the other door. He catches Flora before she can fall and tucks his arms under hers.

“I’ve got you.” His eyes meet with mine. “What now?”

Flora cries out, her spine arching, her knees wide. “I have to push! I can’t stop it. Ren! I can’t stop!”

I lower my hands, putting myself in position. “Then don’t! Flora, push! Push!”

Eyes squeezing shut, she does. A deep breath in and another big push. Her screams scatter every last thought in my brain. There are only trepidation and nerves, only Torin there keeping her steady and my trembling palms waiting. And then…

The little slimy, dark-haired babe falls into my waiting hands. With a rush, Flora pushes the baby out, its tiny body suddenly there.

A cry splits the air, small and fierce and impossibly loud.

“Oh my goddess…” I mutter, shock gripping me.

It happened so fast, my mind is taking a while to catch up. From the looks of Torin’s wide-eyed expression, so is his.

We just—No. We couldn’t have…delivered a baby. My chest loosens and my muscles all go lax at the same time. The little one squirms against me and the delta is there with a clean towel.

Flora sobs, collapsing back against him, exhausted. Her chest heaves, her hair plastered to her temples.

Torin stares, his entire body trembling as though the infant is a bomb about to go off. “I—I don’t—what do we do?”

Heart pounding, I laugh, broken and breathless, tears spilling down my face. I cradle the tiny, wriggling baby against my chest and pull the edges of the towel around its quivering body.

“Is it…” Flora rasps.

“It’s a boy,” I whisper. “Congratulations, Mama. You did a great job.”

As I pass the infant to her, Flora closes her eyes. She exhales long and slow and her body shudders through it. “Thank you, Ren.”

Her breathing evens, her face softening, and I press my lips together, overwhelmed but drowning in relief. Flora kisses the baby’s head, rocking slightly.

When I glance up at Torin, he’s looking at me differently. His chest is rising and falling hard, but his gaze is fixed on me, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t let himself see before.

Admiration, yes. Pride, that’s there too. But under them is something else. Something that makes my pulse skip.

A smile teases the corner of his mouth. “You did a good job, Ms. Wexler.”

The sound of my proper name again, the one he used to use to push me away and rile me up at the same time, has me grinning.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the fear inside me eases. Flora is safe. The baby is here—tiny, fragile, and alive. In the middle of chaos and death, after everything we’ve survived, a miracle still found a way through.

I ignore that I’m covered in blood and god knows what else and sit back. I let it all wash over me.

After losing so much, there is still this. A beginning. A reminder that Andras hasn’t taken everything from us yet.

We can still start again.

But this time, we will be even stronger than before. Together.