Chapter 26 Followed
At my weekly check-up, Dr. Chen frowns at the ultrasound.
"She's measuring almost six weeks ahead now," he says. "At this rate, you'll deliver in eight to ten weeks, not twelve."
Eight weeks. Two months, maybe less.
"Is she okay?" The only question that matters.
"She's perfect. Strong, healthy, developing beautifully." He turns the screen so I can see her. "Look—you can actually see her features now. She's sucking her thumb."
I stare at the image, mesmerized. My daughter, so real now, so close to being born.
"Have you thought about names?" Dr. Chen asks.
I have. I've thought about little else during the long, quiet hours at Rosie's.
"Aurora," I say softly. "It means moon. It feels right."
"Aurora." Dr. Chen smiles. "It's perfect."
That night at work, I'm wiping down tables when a man walks in around three AM. He's well-dressed for the neighborhood—expensive coat, polished shoes. Out of place in Rosie's fluorescent lighting.
He sits at the counter and orders black coffee.
"Anything else?" I ask.
"Information." He slides a business card across the counter. "I'm looking for someone. A young woman, early twenties, pregnant. She might have come through Vancouver General Hospital about a month ago."
My blood runs cold.
"Why are you looking for her?" I try to keep my voice steady.
"Her pack is worried. She left under... difficult circumstances. They just want to make sure she's safe."
Lies. Everything about this screams danger.
"Haven't seen anyone like that," I lie smoothly. "But I'll keep an eye out."
He studies me for a long moment, and I force myself to meet his gaze without flinching.
Finally, he nods. "If you do see her, call that number. There's a reward for information leading to her whereabouts."
After he leaves, I pocket the card and finish my shift on autopilot.
The moment I get home, I show it to Rafael and Carmen.
"This is from White Moon Pack," Rafael says grimly, studying the card. "See the logo? That's their pack symbol."
"They're looking for me." I sink into a chair, shaking. "I thought... I thought I was safe. That they'd just let me go."
"Pregnant omegas are valuable," Carmen says quietly. "Especially if they're carrying an Alpha's child. They probably want to bring you back, raise the baby in the pack."
"Over my dead body." The words come out fierce. Final.
"We need to be careful," Rafael warns. "If they're actively searching Vancouver, you can't be visible. Can't use your real name anywhere."
"I've been using Jane Doe at the hospital and Sage Mitchell everywhere else. But if they're showing my picture—"
"Then we need to change your appearance." Carmen is already thinking ahead. "Hair color, style. Maybe some glasses to change your face shape. Make you look different enough that casual observers won't recognize you."
We spend the rest of the day transforming me. Carmen cuts my long brown hair into a short bob and dyes it auburn. She loans me thick-framed glasses that I don't actually need but that change my face significantly.
When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself.
"It's perfect," I whisper.
That night, I emailed Damon.
‘They're looking for me. Someone from White Moon was in my workplace asking questions. I had to change my appearance.
Is this Mason's doing? Or Stella's?’
His response comes within the hour.
‘It's Stella. Mason doesn't know she's hired a private investigator to track you down. She's convinced you're going to come back and try to "steal" Mason from her.
The investigator's name is Hilary Holden. Former pack enforcer, now works freelance. He's good at what he does, Sage. You need to be very careful.
Can you go to ground completely? Stop working, stay with your host family, minimize your exposure?’
I stare at his message. Stop working means no income. No savings. No way to prepare for Aurora's arrival.
But staying visible means risk. Means potentially being found and dragged back to White Moon in chains.
I made my decision.
‘I can't stop working. I need the money too badly. But I'll be careful. I'll stay aware.
Thank you for the warning.’
The next night at Rosie's, I'm hypervigilant. Watch every customer who comes through the door. Memorize faces. Look for signs of pack affiliation.
Around four AM, Rosie notices.
"You're jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," she observes. "Something wrong?"
I shouldn't tell her. Shouldn't involve her in my problems.
But Rosie has been kind in her gruff way. Has never asked questions, never pried. Has just let me work and earn and exist.
"Someone's looking for me," I admit quietly. "From my past. I'd rather not be found."
Rosie's eyes sharpen. "This person dangerous?"
"To me? Yes."
She nods once. "Alright. You see anyone suspicious, you tell me. I keep a shotgun under the counter—loaded with silver shot, in case we get supernatural trouble. Nobody's taking one of my girls without a fight."
The fierce protection in her voice makes my eyes sting.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just keep your head down and your eyes open."
Three nights later, at the end of my shift, I'm walking to where Rafael usually picks me up when I feel it.
That prickling sensation on the back of my neck. The awareness of being watched.
I glance around casually, trying not to show alarm.
There—across the street. A figure in the shadows. Too still to be innocent.
Hilary Holden. Has to be.
I pull out my phone with shaking hands and text Rafael.
‘Don't come to usual spot. Pick me up at corner store two blocks west. Being followed.’
His response is immediate.
‘On my way. Stay in public areas.’
I walk quickly but not so fast as to show fear. Head toward the 24-hour corner store, where lights and cameras and witnesses provide some protection.
The figure follows at a distance.
When I reach the store, I duck inside and pretend to browse, watching the street through the window.
The figure stops across the street, making no attempt to hide anymore. He knows I know.
Rafael's car appears, and I bolt for it, jumping in before it even comes to a complete stop.
"Go, go!"
He floors it, and we speed away from the corner store.
"Did you see him?" I gasp.
"Yeah." Rafael's jaw is tight. "Sage, this is serious. If they're actively surveilling your workplace—"
"I know. I know." I press my hands to my face. "But what else can I do? I need this job."
"You need to stay alive more." Carmen twists from the front seat to look at me. "We'll figure out the money. But you can't keep putting yourself at risk like this."
She's right. I know she's right.
But the thought of giving up my hard-won independence, of being completely dependent on their charity again, is unbearable.
That night, lying in bed, I felt Aurora kick strongly. A reminder of what's at stake.
I'm not just fighting for myself anymore. I'm fighting for her.
And if that means swallowing my pride, accepting help, staying hidden...
Then that's what I'll do.
The next morning, I call Rosie.
"I have to quit," I say, the words like glass in my throat.
"Because of that person looking for you?"
"Yes."
There's a long pause. Then: "I figured. Look, kid—you were a good worker. You ever need a reference, you call me. And if that person shows up here asking questions? I never heard of you."
"Thank you, Rosie. For everything."
"Stay safe, Sage. And take care of that baby."
After I hang up, I sit on my bed and cry.
Not just for the lost income, though that hurts. But for the loss of independence. Purpose. Identity as someone who earns her own way.
Carmen finds me there an hour later.
"Hey," she says gently, sitting beside me. "Rafael talked to his boss. They need someone to do data entry from home—invoices, reports, that kind of thing. It's not much, maybe fifteen hours a week, but it's completely remote. You'd never have to leave the house."
I wipe my eyes. "Really?"
"Really. And Sage? You don't have to do this alone. Let us help. That's what family does."
Family.
Maybe it's time I started believing that's what we are.