Page 17

Chapter Sixteen

A LARIC HELLS

I don’t think I’ve ever driven like this.

The streets blur past in frantic streaks. Horns blare. Tires squeal.

I’m vaguely aware that I’ve already run at least three red lights and nearly clipped a cab back there, but I don’t give a damn. I don’t have the luxury to.

My hands have a death grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my breath shallow, and my pulse pounding in my ears.

Because every time I look at Lila and every time I see the pale, limp little girl she’s clutching to her chest like her life depends on it, I feel something inside me unravel.

Lina.

Her name is Lina.

And she’s Lila’s daughter.

The second I saw her face, something inside me fractured.

I knew.

Not just because of how Lila held her, like the world would end if she let go, but because I’ve seen that little face before.

That soft pout when she told me about the cookie story in the hospital. That tiny wrinkle between her brows. The stubborn little tilt to her chin. The way her dark lashes fan over her cheeks. I noticed those details back then and thought, huh, she reminds me of someone.

It hits me now like a goddamn sledgehammer.

She looks like Lila.

She is Lila’s.

And my wolf? Fuck, he’s losing his mind.

He's clawing inside my chest, howling, Ours. Ours. Ours.

He recognized her before I did. That day in the hospital, when I touched her hand, and something stirred in my gut. I brushed it off as nothing. My wolf didn’t.

And now? Now he’s tearing through me, feral with protectiveness.

Too small. Too still. She shouldn’t be like this. Not our pup.

I want to ask Lila a thousand fucking questions.

How old is she? Why didn’t she tell me? Why did she keep her hidden? Is she mine?

But none of that matters right now. Right now, all that matters is that she’s breathing, barely, and that Lila looks like she’s holding herself together with sheer fucking will.

“Mommy’s here, so hang on, baby,” she sobs, and the sound guts me.

She’s terrified. And I can’t stand it.

I thought Julian drugging her and trying to take advantage of her nearly made me snap, but this? It chips at all the boundaries of my emotions.

I reach across the center console, placing my hand over Lina’s tiny one where it rests on Lila’s arm. Her skin is cold. Too cold.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I say, low and steady, like I’m convincing myself and the universe itself. “You’re not losing her, wild one. The hospital’s close.”

Lila turns to me with tears in her eyes and a look that punches a hole right through my ribcage.

“I can’t lose her,” she whispers. Her voice cracks, and it kills me. “She’s all I have. Without her, I’m…nothing. So, promise me. Promise me she’ll be okay.”

I want to tell her that after what happened between us, she has me. That she will always have me, but this is not the right time to do so.

“She’ll be okay,” I say without hesitation. “We’ll make sure of that. I swear it.”

She nods like she believes me. Or maybe she just needs to believe me. Maybe that’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart in my damn passenger seat.

I look at Lina again. I can see her little chest rise and fall, but it’s faint. Too faint.

My wolf growls, pacing inside me. Fix this. Protect her. Save her.

I should’ve known.

Goddess, how could I not have known?

Lina’s eyes, those deep, expressive eyes, they hold the same fire as Lila’s.

Her smile, when I saw it at the hospital, it lit up the damn room. She clung to that toy like it was a lifeline, stubborn as hell. Just like her mother.

Just like mine.

I grip the wheel tighter and my foot presses harder on the gas.

Saint Jude’s Hospital isn’t far, and it’s one of the best werewolf hospitals in the city. I’ll call in every favor I have to make sure Lina gets the treatment she deserves.

She’s going to pull through. I’ll pull every string to ensure it, and I don’t care what it costs me, either.

Because that little girl in Lila’s arms? She’s not just any girl.

She might be mine.

And even if she isn’t, she’s Lila’s.

Which means she’s everything.

And I’m not letting either of them slip through my fingers again.

The minute my tires screech to a stop outside the hospital, I’m already out of the car before Lila can even open her door.

I round the vehicle in three long strides, rip her door open, and scoop Lina straight from her arms.

Lila doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t say a word. Her face is pale and wrecked, eyes locked on her daughter like she’s willing her to breathe with just a look.

She follows me inside, stumbling, as I storm through the sliding doors with Lina limp against my chest.

The sharp, medicated air hits me the second we cross the doors.

It’s cold, clinical, and unforgiving. Yet I still don't pause.

“I need help!” I shout, my voice ricocheting off the sterile walls. “She’s not waking up! I need a gurney now!”

A few heads turn. Patients murmur, families give me side-eyes, and some nurse behind the counter has the nerve to blink like I’ve interrupted her afternoon coffee. But my outburst does the job because two seconds later, the ER doors burst open and a team of nurses rushes out, pushing a gurney.

“This way,” one of them barks, and I don’t hesitate.

It takes everything in me to let go. My arms feel cold and empty the moment Lina is no longer in them. Her little hand slides off my shirt, and my heart shatters.

Lila stands frozen beside me, her hand clapped over her mouth like it’s the only thing keeping her together. She sways once, and I catch her.

I wrap an arm around her waist and walk her toward the waiting lounge, guiding her like she’s made of glass and might splinter under my touch.

At first, she doesn’t cry. She just sits there, stiff as a board, arms hugging her middle, like if she lets herself feel for even a second, she’ll fall apart completely and won’t be there for her daughter when she wakes up.

“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her,” she says, voice barely above a whisper, but I hear her.

I sink into the seat beside her, wrap my arm around her again, and cover her hand with mine. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t say anything. She just leans in, trembling.

“She’s strong,” I murmur. “And she’s got the best team of healers working on her. She’s going to pull through.”

But deep down, I know I’m not just saying it for her. I’m saying it for me, too. Because if anything happens to that little girl, I don’t know what the hell I’ll do.

I didn’t even know she existed a few hours ago, and yet…now, the thought of losing her feels like a blade twisting in my ribs.

Lila finally looks up at me. Her eyes, Goddess, those eyes—are swimming with so much emotion I can barely breathe. Fear. Pain. Guilt.

I open my mouth to tell her she’s not alone anymore. That I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere. But the words never come.

Because the air shifts, and my wolf senses it before I do.

The filth in the room. The rot that walks in wearing a smug face and bloodied stitches.

“Well,” comes the all-too-familiar voice, thick with mockery. “Isn’t this cozy?”

Julian.

Of fucking course. Why am I even surprised? The bastard seems to be everywhere he’s not wanted.

I rise to my feet slowly, trying my best not to start a fight as I stand between him and Lila before I even realize I’ve moved.

He’s bruised.

His face is stitched up like a ragdoll. I barely even recognize him, and I’m the one who put him in that state.

His eyes bounce from me to Lila…and then his gaze sharpens as it lands on the ER doors. On the gurney that disappeared behind those doors a few minutes ago.

I watch as his expression changes.

“That girl…” he starts, and I know the minute he starts talking, it’s either I kick him out or knock him out again right here right now. “She’s Lila’s, isn’t she?” He pauses. “She’s mine.”

I don’t have to look behind to figure out that Lila has just stiffened behind me.

“Is this the reason why you are pushing me away, peaches? Because you didn’t want me to figure out she exists?” Julian growls. “You let me think you hated me when in reality you’ve been hiding our daughter away from—”

“She’s not yours,” Lila snaps, her voice cracking but firm.

She’s standing up now and my fucking nephew thinks that’s the right time to take a step forward, only for me to stop him in his tracks.

“You think you’re going to play daddy now?”

“Walk away, Julian,” I grit out, barely holding back the growl in my throat. “Before I finish what I started.”

He doesn’t walk away.

Six punches to his thick skull a few hours ago, and my nephew still hasn't gotten the message that Lila and now—Lina, will never be his.

“You think I’m going to just walk away? Did you see her? That kid looks like me. She’s fucking mine.”

That kid? He doesn’t even know her name. He doesn’t even care.

“Walk the fuck away.” My fists are clenched now.

“I’ll get a lawyer, Lila,” he says coldly.

“I’ll do a paternity test. You think you can hide a child from her father?

You think the courts won’t take my side once they find out while you’ve been fucking my uncle on the sidelines, our child has been neglected to the point that she fell sick?

I’ll gain custody of her, mark my words, peaches. ”