Chapter 270 I'll Be Waiting for Him
Chapter 270 I'll Be Waiting for Him
DANIEL
Minutes later, I gently released Miss Moonrack’s hand and stood, my legs feeling slightly stiff as I navigated the small space toward the crib.
I leaned over, my breath hitching in my throat.
She was breathtaking.
Even for a newborn, she looked remarkably healthy, a sturdy, precious little thing with skin as soft as velvet.
Everything about her... the tiny, curled fingers, the button nose, the faint fuzz of hair on her head... was perfection.
She was a tiny, sleeping miracle, so peaceful in the quiet hum of the hospital room that I felt like an intruder just by breathing the same air.
I extended a finger, trembling slightly, and brushed the back of it against her cheek.
It was so incredibly soft, warm with the heat of life.
I pulled back immediately, terrified that even the lightest touch might shatter the stillness of her slumber.
"Daniel?"
The soft, fragile call pulled me back to reality.
I turned around to find Miss Moonrack watching me, her gaze heavy with a question she had clearly been holding back.
"You’ve congratulated me about my baby," she whispered, her eyes searching mine. "But you’ve avoided talking about Tristan. How is he, really?"
The weight of the question hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.
I had been trying to shield her, to keep the darkness of the hallway away from the light of this room, but her intuition was as sharp as ever.
Before I could formulate a response that wouldn't shatter her fragile post-birth peace, the heavy door groaned open.
Two nurses swept into the room, their movements practiced and clinical, carrying a stainless-steel tray clattering with vials and medical tools.
"Time for your medication, ma'am," one of them said, her voice brisk and professional.
She deposited the tray on the side table with a metallic clink that felt jarringly loud in the room's tense atmosphere.
The second nurse moved to the bed, helping Miss Moonrack sit up, supporting her back as she adjusted the pillows.
I stepped in instinctively, helping to steady her as she took the offered tablets and a glass of water.
She swallowed them dutifully, her eyes never leaving my face.
The nurses checked her vitals, updated the chart with quick, scribbled notes, and then, with a curt nod in my direction, retreated.
"Beta," they murmured in unison before the door clicked shut behind them, leaving us in a vacuum of silence once more.
I walked back to the edge of her bed, looking down at her.
She looked exhausted, pale, and so incredibly vulnerable. "I can’t give you a definitive answer right now," I began, choosing my words with agonizing care. "His test results haven't been finalized yet. The doctors are running everything, but he’s strong, Miss Moonrack. It’s likely just exhaustion... the toll of the pack, the stress. He’ll be here. He’ll walk through that door to see you and the baby soon enough."
"Are you sure, Daniel?" she asked. The raw, jagged emotion in her voice cut straight through my ribs, making my heart ache with a heavy, leaden rhythm.
I opened my mouth, but the truth lodged in my throat.
I wasn't sure.
I was terrified.
The way he had slumped, the unnatural, deathly stillness of his body... it hadn't felt like simple exhaustion.
It felt like an ending.
"Are you sure Tristan will ever walk into this ward again?" she repeated, her voice cracking.
As if on cue, a single, hot tear traced a path down her cheek, followed by another.
The dam had broken.
I stood there, frozen, feeling utterly helpless.
I was a warrior, a Beta trained to handle threats and lead battles, but in the face of her grief, I felt like a child.
I didn't know how to comfort her, and the thought that her mother would be arriving at any moment only added to the suffocating pressure in the room.
"Because I love him," she sobbed, her head shaking back and forth against the pillows. "I love him so much, and I cannot lose him. Not now. Not when we’re finally here. Nothing can happen to him, Daniel… you have to save him. Please."
Her tears were falling faster now, soaking into the thin hospital gown.
The sight of her suffering, combined with the crushing uncertainty of my Alpha’s condition, threatened to break my own composure.
I reached out, capturing both of her hands in mine. Her skin was feverish, and she clutched at my fingers with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.
"Listen to me," I said, my voice firm, forcing every ounce of authority I possessed into the words. "Nothing is going to happen to him. He is the strongest wolf I have ever known. He is a survivor, and he isn't going anywhere, not when he has the most important reason in the world to keep breathing, which is you."
She blinked, her wet lashes fluttering as she looked at me, waiting for the rest.
"He fought for you, he lives for you, and he will fight his way back to this room," I continued, feeling the conviction grow in my own voice. "You have to be brave. You’ve been the anchor for him, and you’ve been his strength. You cannot let the fear win. If you break, you’re just giving the darkness exactly what it wants."
She stared at me, her chest heaving as she processed my words.
Slowly, I released her hands.
She let out a shuddering breath, lifted her palms, and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hands.
The effort was visibly exhausting, but when she finally looked up at me, a small, tentative smile graced her lips.
It was faint... a mere ghost of her usual brightness but it was genuine.
"I’ll be waiting for him," she whispered, her eyes drifting toward the crib. "I’ll wait for him to come and meet Tyla. She’s finally here, and he needs to see her."
I nodded, a sense of grim determination hardening in my gut. "He will and I promise you, I will not rest until I find out who did this to him. Whoever is responsible will pay for every second of this fear."
She nodded, seemingly comforted by the promise of vengeance.
Just as the silence began to settle again, a tiny, high-pitched sound pierced the air.
It was a soft, hungry cry, the unmistakable, beautiful noise of a new life demanding to be heard.
Tyla had woken up.