Chapter 80
“Somebody help!” Felicia screams, horror designs her face. “My child, Nana?” she cries, voice breaking apart.
A few maids and guards who always stay nearby dash into the room. The fear on Felicia’s face mirrors on theirs as their eyes land on the bed.
“Blood… blood…” Felicia stammers, pointing with trembling fingers. Her chest heaves, panic closing her throat. “The healer! Get the healer!” she finally screams, her voice cracking.
The guards bolt out the door without question. One of the maids stumbles, catches herself, and rushes to the bedside. Felicia kneels beside Nana, heart pounding painfully in her chest.
Nana’s breath comes in sharp, shallow gasps. Her body shudders with each contraction. Sweat beads on her pale forehead, and her lips tremble as she struggles to hold back cries of agony.
Her hands clutch the bedspread so tightly that her knuckles are white. Her brow furrows deeply, pain tearing through her body like jagged blades. Blood pools beneath her, staining the sheets dark and thick.
Unable to endure the pain, Nana bites her bottom lip so hard it begins to bleed. Her muffled whimpers mix with gasps, and Felicia’s heart twists painfully in her chest.
“No, no… don’t hurt yourself, Nana.” Felicia quickly searches for something, her hands trembling. She grabs the nearest cloth, folds it into a thick wad, and presses it to Nana’s mouth. “Bite this,” she whispers, her voice trembling but steady. “I know it hurts. I know, my child… but you have to hold on. The Alpha will be here soon.”
She turns sharply to the maid. “Send word. Use the device. Tell them it’s urgent. Now!”
The maid nods and dashes out, nearly slipping on the polished floor.
Felicia brushes Nana’s damp hair back from her face. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispers, though her voice wavers. “You’re strong… stronger than this.”
But in her heart, worry coils tight.
Things have changed since Lowell took the Alpha seat. He had sent the intelligent pack members to live among humans, Communication devices, once rare, are now placed in strategic locations for emergencies like this. Still, they are reserved for high-ranking individuals, and Felicia silently prays that whoever receives the message will act swiftly.
The door swings open again. Nathan’s father enters, his face pale, lips pressed tightly together.
“I heard the commotion,” he mutters, stepping quickly to Felicia’s side. His eyes flick to the blood-soaked sheets, and his throat works as he swallows hard. He glances at the communication device in his hand, fingers trembling. “I’ve tried reaching both Nathan and the Alpha… nothing. No response. The mind-link…” he trails off, shaking his head. “It’s blocked.”
Felicia’s breath catches. She looks at Nana, whose body writhes in pain, the cloth clenched between her teeth muffling her cries.
The door opens again, this time more gently. The healer steps in, her face calm but serious. She sets down her satchel and moves with practiced grace toward the bed.
“Everyone, please give us space,” she says softly but firmly. The men nod and step out.
The healer kneels by Nana’s side, pressing gentle hands to her belly, feeling the contractions.
Felicia can’t stop the tremble in her voice. “She’s bleeding so much… please… Please save her.”
The healer’s eyes are kind but focused. “It’s time,” she says quietly.
Felicia’s heart drops. Her breath comes in shallow pants. She nods, though fear clutches her chest.
Nana cries out again, even through the cloth in her mouth. Her body convulses as another wave of pain crashes over her.
“It’s not going to be easy,” the healer murmurs. “Her body is weak. But we’ll do everything we can.”
The healer rolls up her sleeves. She instructs the maids to boil water, bring fresh clothes, and prepare towels.
Felicia holds Nana’s hand, squeezing gently. “I’m here,” she whispers. “I won’t leave you.”
The next few minutes are chaotic.
Nana’s body shakes with the force of her contractions. She pants, sobs, and bites down on the cloth so hard her jaw trembles. The healer works quickly but carefully, pressing down on her belly, trying to help the baby move.
But something is wrong.
The baby isn’t moving down. Nana’s cries grow weaker, her body cold to the touch.
Felicia’s panic deepens. “What’s happening?” she whispers desperately.
The healer frowns, sweat beading on her brow. “The baby’s not in the right position… we need to turn it.”
She gently but firmly presses on Nana’s stomach, murmuring instructions.
Nana screams into the cloth. Tears stream down her cheeks. Her entire body is drenched in sweat, trembling violently.
“Stay with me,” the healer urges. “Breathe, Nana. Breathe.”
Felicia strokes her hair, murmuring soft reassurances. But the terror never leaves her face.
The hours crawl by slowly, painfully.
Four hours. Four long, excruciating hours.
The bed is soaked in blood. The room is thick with tension. Felicia’s hands tremble as she wipes sweat from Nana’s forehead.
“You can do this, my child,” she whispers, though fear cracks her voice.
Outside the room, the packhouse is silent.
Lowell’s absence weighs heavy. His scent, his presence — both could have soothed her pain, calmed the child within her womb. But he remains unreachable.
Minutes stretch into hours. Nana’s body shakes violently. The healer works tirelessly, pressing and repositioning. Still, the baby refuses to come.
At the same time, there’s celebration elsewhere. Melissa has given birth to a boy, her joyful laughter echoing through the halls. Her mother’s gentle hum blends with the baby’s cries. They bask in happiness, while on this side of the house, fear suffocates the air.
Felicia wipes tears from Nana’s face, her heart breaking. The healer glances at Felicia, her face grim. “Her body is struggling. We may need to make a difficult decision.”
Felicia’s hands tighten on Nana’s. “Please… just save her.”
The healer nods once. “I will do my best.”
The struggle continues. Nana drifts in and out of consciousness, her strength fading.
Still, Lowell remains unreachable. His absence weighs heavier than ever.
The room falls into tense silence, broken only by Nana’s weak, gasping breaths.
Four hours have passed, and Nana is still fighting. Her body drenched in sweat, trembling and weak, her breathing ragged. Her face is pale — too pale — and her lips are cracked. She can’t speak, only groans escape her throat.
The room is thick with tension. Felicia holds Nana’s hand tightly, whispering encouragement between tears. The healer works tirelessly, her hands steady but her eyes betray worry. She’s done all she can. The pack nurses and doctor have joined her, their faces drawn tight, silent prayers on their lips.
One nurse wipes Nana’s forehead gently. “My Lady… please hold on,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
The healer exchanges a look with the doctor. They both understand. If something doesn’t happen soon, they will lose her.
“We may need to intervene,” the doctor says quietly.
Felicia jerks her head up. “Surgery?” Her voice trembles.
The healer nods slowly. “We will try… but we cannot guarantee she will survive. Her body is already too weak. Her heart is strained.”
Felicia’s tears fall faster. She strokes Nana’s face. “My child… you have to fight. For your son. For Lowell.”
The room stirs as the doctor gives the order. The nurses begin preparing. Metal trays clink softly as instruments are arranged. The healer ties her hair up, her face set in grim determination.
But then — a sound. A strangled cry from Nana. Her body convulses, and she pushes with everything left inside her. Her hands clutch at the sheets, her legs tremble. Felicia holds her shoulders, whispering, “Come on… come on, my dear.”
Another cry — this time louder, desperate. The healer moves quickly. “Now!” she calls.
Nana screams, her voice raw, broken. And then — relief. The room falls silent for a heartbeat before the baby’s cry pierces the air.
A loud, healthy cry.
Felicia gasps, covering her mouth. Tears streams down her face. The healer lifts the baby, quickly cleaning him. “It’s a boy,” she announces, her voice shaking.
Felicia sobs, touching Nana’s face. “You did it, my child. You have done well… so well.”
Nana’s head lolls weakly to the side. Her eyes flutter open for just a moment. She looks at Felicia, a small smile tugging at her lips. She tries to speak, but no words come out. Just that smile — tired, soft, full of peace.
And then her eyes close. Her body goes limp.
“No… no, Nana!” Felicia shakes her. “Stay with me! You did it… you must see your son! Stay with me, please!”
The healer checks quickly. Her face pales. “She’s unconscious.”
The doctor rushes to her side, but Nana is unresponsive. Her pulse is faint, barely there.
They work frantically. The healer’s hands press down, trying to stimulate her heart. The nurses rush around with towels and herbs. The doctor injects her with something, calling out commands.
“Come on… come on,” Felicia whispers desperately, holding Nana’s lifeless hand.
They try for minutes that feel like hours, but she doesn’t respond.
The baby keeps crying, strong and loud in the corner, unaware of the struggle.
Felicia leans forward, pressing her forehead to Nana’s. “You can’t leave him. You can’t leave the Alpha. Please… don’t do this.”
But Nana does not move.
And that’s where everything stops.