Chapter 183

Olivia

The weight of the situation pressed down on me, my heart fluttering in my chest like a trapped bird. “I can’t do this, Angela,” I whispered, feeling the world shrink around me. “I just can’t.”

Angela’s hands cupped my face, pulling me back to the harsh reality of the moment. “Olivia,” she said firmly, her eyes searching mine, “you don’t have a choice. We can’t drive you to the hospital now; it would be too dangerous.”

“But—” The words stuck in my throat, tears threatening to spill.

Nathan’s hand squeezed mine, his touch grounding me. “Liv, trust Angela. We’re right here with you.”

Angela’s resolute voice snapped me back to focus. “We’re going upstairs. Now.”

Supported by Nathan and Angela, we made our way up the stairs. The familiar ascent felt so different—each step heavier, filled with trepidation. I had always thought I would welcome my children surrounded by the antiseptic scent of a hospital, but here I was, on the verge of giving birth in my own home.

By the time we reached the bathroom, Angela was all business, filling the bathtub with warm water. Nathan, always my rock, spread out towels and supplies, his face etched with concern.

I looked from the bathtub to Nathan and back to Angela, a pit of dread settling in my stomach. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I murmured.

Angela moved swiftly, guiding me into the tub. The warm water enveloped my body, offering a small comfort. “You’ve got this, Olivia,” she reassured, positioning herself beside me.

Time blurred. Waves of pain came and went, each stronger than the last. Through it all, Angela’s voice anchored me, her calm directives guiding me. Nathan held my hand, his grip my lifeline.

“You’re almost there,” Angela coached. “The baby’s head is crowning. Push!”

With a raw, guttural scream, I pushed. Moments later, the shrill cry of a newborn filled the room. Relief flooded through me upon hearing the little cries.

“Here’s your son,” Angela said, placing the wriggling bundle into my arms. I looked down at my son, tears streaming freely. He was perfect.

Holding my son for the first time was an indescribable experience. Every pain, every scream, every uncertainty was instantly replaced with an overwhelming rush of love and tenderness.

My fingers, trembling and unsure, brushed over the delicate skin of his forehead, tracing the soft outline of his closed eyes, and marveling at the tiny rosebud lips that quivered with his soft breaths.

He was here, a part of me and yet so incredibly his own.

The weight of him in my arms felt so natural, as if this was where he was always meant to be. His soft whimpers and delicate movements reminded me of how fragile and new he was to this world. The delicate curve of his fingers wrapped around mine, and I was consumed by a warmth that spread from the pit of my stomach, radiating throughout my entire being.

Nathan leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on both our foreheads, his eyes misty with tears. We were a family now, an unbreakable bond forged through love and adversity.

Yet, as I held onto this beautiful moment, a strange sensation began to crawl up from the edges of my consciousness. There was still one baby yet to come out, and something was wrong. I could feel it.

The room seemed to blur around the edges, the sounds growing distant, muffled by a strange ringing in my ears. Nathan’s voice, filled with love and reassurance, seemed to drift further away.

My grip on our son tightened instinctively, as a cold rush of dizziness threatened to pull me under. The strength I'd felt moments before began to wane, replaced by a growing weakness. Panic bubbled up as I tried to articulate my distress, but words failed me.

The joy of the moment was now tainted with an undercurrent of fear. The world around me spun, threatening to plunge me into darkness.

“Olivia,” Angela said, urgency lacing her voice, “we have another baby to deliver, and she’s turned.”

I felt a cold dread settle in. “What do you mean ‘turned’?” I managed to croak out through my haze. “Is she okay?”

Angela’s face fell as she looked at me. With a quick movement, she gestured to the baby in my arms and said something. Her voice sounded muffled, far away, and I couldn’t make out what she said.

All I knew was that the room suddenly felt as though it was tilting, a merry-go-round that refused to stop.

And then, my newborn son, the little being I had just held close, was suddenly being pulled from my grasp. I cried out, reaching for him. My heart ached at the sudden emptiness, and tears streamed down my face.

“What’s happening?” I choked out, panic seeping into every word.

Nathan’s arms were around me, cradling me against his chest. I felt every tremor of his worry as he whispered words of comfort, but I could barely make them out. His voice sounded so distant, even though he was right next to me.

Every emotion was etched deep into his face—love, concern, terror. But it was his eyes that gripped me the most. I had seen them filled with laughter, with passion, with determination. Now, they were filled with raw fear.

From the blur of voices around me, I could discern Angela’s urgent tone. Something about blood pressure. She was trying to communicate with Nathan, to get him to understand.

But her words felt like they were coming from miles away, and I couldn’t quite piece them together. The edges of my vision began to blur, the world narrowing into a tunnel.

As my surroundings dimmed, I felt a sudden shift in position. My head was lowered, my feet elevated. Angela’s face came into sharp focus for a brief moment. “Stay with us, Olivia,” she urged, her voice strained.

And then, in the midst of the panic and chaos, an all too familiar voice echoed in my mind—my wolf. It had been so long since I had truly heard her, but now she was present, vivid, and strong.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her voice filled with both determination and sorrow. “I will lend you the little strength I have. It may keep the second child alive.”

Hope and dread intertwined within me. “But what about me?” My mental voice wavered, caught between the reassurance of her presence and the gravity of the situation.

She hesitated, the silence stretching painfully. “I’m not sure,” she admitted quietly. “I will do everything I can.”

There was a rawness to her words, a candid honesty that sent a shiver down my spine. Even in her reduced state, separated from me by a spell, she was fighting for our survival.

My thoughts became disjointed, the world around me hazy. I felt the touch of Nathan’s hand, cold and trembling, brushing strands of hair away from my sweaty forehead.

His murmured assurances, even though they were distant and unclear, provided a faint lifeline to the world I was rapidly slipping away from.

As my consciousness waned, there was one last sensation I held onto—the warmth of my son, the sensation of holding him close, even if it was only for a brief moment. That memory became my anchor, a glimmer of hope in the encroaching darkness.

I would take my wolf’s strength to save my daughter, even if I didn’t make it to the end. I had to.

And with that thought, everything went black.