chapter 183
Lucas's POV:
I stood motionless outside the operating room, my body rigid as stone while my mind raced with chaotic thoughts.
Five hours had passed since they wheeled Tori in, her blood soaking through the sheets, her silver eyes clouded with pain before they closed.
Five hours of hell.
My wolf, Duke, paced restlessly within me, his growls echoing through my mind.
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath, earning a concerned glance from Jack, who stood several feet away.
I ignored him. What good was being an Alpha—the most powerful werewolf in Moonhaven—if I couldn't protect my mate?
William Sullivan sat across from me, his face buried in his hands. Beside him, Susan gripped the armrests of her wheelchair, her knuckles white, her gaze fixed on the operating room doors.
The revelation that Tori was their daughter had shattered decades of lies, but right now, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was whether Tori would survive.
Diana, Susan's mother, paced the waiting area, occasionally stopping to place a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. Several other members of the Sullivan Pack waited nearby, their presence a silent testament to the family Tori never knew she had.
The clock on the wall ticked past 5 AM when the doors finally swung open.
A female doctor emerged, surgical mask pulled down to her chin, exhaustion evident in the lines of her face. I was in front of her before she could take another step.
"How is she?" My voice came out as a harsh whisper.
The doctor's eyes met mine, and I caught the faint scent of relief mingling with the antiseptic on her clothing.
"We've managed to stop the hemorrhaging. Her vital signs are stable, though she's extremely weak. The next 24 hours will be critical, but she's out of immediate danger."
A collective exhale seemed to sweep through the waiting room.
Susan let out a sob, her body crumpling forward as William wrapped his arms around her. Diana and the other elders embraced, tears flowing freely.
I stood frozen, unable to process the flood of emotions coursing through me—relief, gratitude, and lingering fear.
"Mr. Grayson," the doctor continued, "she'll be moved to intensive care shortly. Only one visitor at a time, and only for brief periods."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The doctor gave me a sympathetic look before turning to address the others' questions.
I stepped away, heading toward the changing area to get into sterile scrubs.
Before I could reach it, Matthew intercepted me in the hallway, a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going without eating something first?" His tone was professional but carried the authority of a friend who wouldn't back down.
I noticed Megan standing slightly behind him, her eyes meeting mine with a new clarity I hadn't seen before.
Gone was the lingering adoration, replaced by something more grounded. She held out a paper bag.
"You need to eat," she said simply. "You won't be any good to Tori if you collapse."
When I didn't immediately take the offering, she stepped forward and pressed it into my hands, her voice catching slightly.
"Just take it, Lucas. I..." She paused, gathering herself. "I'm letting you go. I finally understand what real love looks like."
Her eyes glistened as she turned away, wiping at them hastily before disappearing down the corridor.
I stood frozen, the warm bag in my hands emanating the scent of food.
Matthew squeezed my shoulder. "Don't be stubborn. You need your strength for her."
I didn't argue further, unwrapping the sandwich and forcing myself to eat quickly, mechanically. The food was tasteless in my mouth, but I recognized the necessity.
After finishing, I discarded the wrapper and proceeded to the changing area, pulling on sterile scrubs with practiced efficiency.
Minutes later, properly attired, I entered the intensive care unit and took my position beside Tori's bed.
The steady beeping of monitors and her shallow breathing created a rhythm that both terrified and anchored me. I took her small, cold hand in mine and settled in to wait.
On the third day, as dawn broke over Moonhaven.
Tori's eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing those silver irises that had captivated me from the first moment.
They were clouded with pain and medication, but they found me immediately.
"You've finally woken up," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat as I fought to maintain composure.
I squeezed her hand gently. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I held them back, not wanting to frighten her with the raw intensity of my relief.
She tried to speak, but could only manage a weak rasp, her throat still recovering from the intubation. Instead, she squeezed my hand weakly, her gaze holding mine.
I knew I must look like hell—unshaven, hair unwashed, clothes rumpled from days of wear—but her eyes held nothing but warmth.
The moment was brief. Her eyelids soon grew heavy again, and she slipped back into sleep, but that brief connection had been enough to settle something within me.
She was fighting. My mate was fighting to come back to me.
Once Tori was moved to a private VIP room, visitors came more frequently.
Morgan brought flowers. Matthew checked in professionally but lingered as a friend.
Most often were Susan's visits She would sit beside Tori's bed, watching her sleep, hands folded in her lap as if in prayer.
---
Tori fully awakened one morning as dawn filtered through the blinds.
I had fallen asleep in the chair beside her bed, my head resting near her hand. I jolted awake to the gentle sensation of fingers stroking my hair, my wolf instantly alert.
When I raised my head, I found myself looking into Tori's heartbroken eyes.
"You've lost weight," she whispered, her fingers tracing the new hollows in my cheeks. "And is that...are those gray hairs?" Her touch lingered on my temple where, apparently, stress had left its mark.
I caught her hand and pressed it to my lips.
"Then you'll just have to take better care of me from now on," I said, my voice rough with sleep and emotion. "No more scaring me like this. Deal?"
A smile touched her lips, fragile but real. "Deal."
She paused, her expression shifting as her free hand moved instinctively to her now-flat stomach. "The baby?" she asked.
"Safe," I assured her quickly. "But small. The doctors have the little one in an incubation chamber. Just for a while, until developing fully."
Relief softened her face, followed by wistfulness. "Have you seen the baby? Is it... is it cute?"
I hesitated. The truth was, I'd barely spared a glance at our child.
From the moment they'd wheeled Tori into surgery, my entire being had focused solely on her survival. The baby had been whisked away to neonatal intensive care, and while I'd received updates, I hadn't actually visited.
"Beautiful," I lied, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. "Just perfect. Like you."