Chapter 200
Kara
The drive to Anchorage Medical Center passed in a blur of snow-covered highway and tense silence. Every time Blake took a turn too fast, Asher would growl a warning. Every time I shifted in my seat, Cole would tense like he was afraid I'd shatter. The air in the SUV was thick with unspoken fears, with all the things we needed to say but couldn't find words for.
I love you, I wanted to tell them. I love you and I'm sorry and I'm so fucking scared that Diana's not really dead, that she'll come back and finish what she started.
But the words stuck in my throat, too raw and vulnerable to voice. So instead I just held Cole's hand and let Blake's driving lull me into a kind of numb half-awareness, watching the world blur past the window.
The hospital materialized out of the snow like a beacon, all modern glass and steel against the wild Alaska landscape. The VIP wing was on the top floor, isolated enough for privacy but close enough to the trauma center for immediate intervention if needed. We navigated through back corridors with the ease of people who'd made this trip before—probably when one of the triplets had gotten injured during training or some pack member had needed emergency care.
The private room was on the corner, with floor-to-ceiling windows that would've offered a stunning view of the mountains in daylight. Now they just reflected our haggard faces back at us, making us look like ghosts haunting the sterile medical space.
The door was closed but not locked. Blake pushed it open carefully, like he was afraid of what we'd find inside.
Two beds dominated the space, and in them—
"Mom." The word came out broken, barely a whisper. "Dad."
They looked so small lying there, their bodies ravaged by a decade of unnatural imprisonment. Connor's face was gaunt, cheekbones sharp enough to cut, while Celeste's skin had a translucent quality that spoke of prolonged suffering. Monitors beeped steadily, tracking heart rates and oxygen levels and a dozen other vital signs I didn't understand.
But they were breathing. Their chests rose and fell with steady rhythm, hearts beating in proof of life.
Blake set me down carefully, keeping one arm around my waist as my knees threatened to buckle. Through our bond, I felt his rage at seeing the evidence of what Diana had done, felt Cole's medical assessment cataloging injuries, felt Asher's cold calculation of how many people would need to die for this.
They're alive, I reminded myself, forcing my feet to move forward. They're alive and they're here and they know who I am.
That last part was what really mattered. When Celeste had recognized me in Diana's compound, when she'd whispered my name with such desperate love—that had been worth everything. Worth the terror and the pain and the awful moment when I'd thought I'd have to watch Diana steal my body while my parents' consciousness looked on helplessly from those fucking snakes.
A nurse looked up from her tablet as we entered, her expression shifting from professional courtesy to thinly veiled alarm as she took in our appearance. We probably looked like hell—Blake still had blood on his shirt, Asher's usually immaculate appearance was rumpled and stained, and Cole's hands were shaking with barely suppressed medical anxiety.
And me? I didn't want to know what I looked like. Probably like something that had crawled out of a nightmare, which wasn't far from the truth.
"They're resting," the nurse said quietly, her voice carrying the kind of careful neutrality that suggested she'd been briefed on who we were. "Vitals are stable. Dr. Harrison said to let them sleep as long as they need."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My eyes were fixed on Celeste's face, memorizing the curve of her cheekbone, the way her hair—longer than I remembered, shot through with more gray—spread across the pillow. She looked older than the woman in my memories, worn down by suffering I couldn't begin to imagine.
Ten years, I thought numbly. Ten years trapped in a snake's body, aware but helpless, watching Diana use their identities to manipulate and destroy.
"How long until they wake up?" Cole asked, his medical training overriding his emotional turmoil. "Properly, I mean. Not just brief moments of consciousness."
The nurse consulted her tablet. "Hard to say. Their bodies are adjusting to having their original consciousness back. Dr. Harrison estimates anywhere from a few hours to a day, maybe longer. It's unprecedented territory."
Of course it is, I thought with a hysterical edge. Because why would anything about my life be normal?
I moved toward Celeste's bed on autopilot, my hand reaching out before I'd consciously decided to touch her. Her hand lay on top of the blanket, so fragile it looked like it might shatter at a touch. I wrapped my fingers around hers anyway, feeling the warmth of her skin, the delicate bones beneath.
Real, my wolf whispered. She's real. Not dead. Not gone. Real.
"I'm here, Mom," I said quietly, aware of Blake hovering at my shoulder, of Asher and Cole maintaining a protective perimeter around the room. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment I thought she might wake. But she just sighed, a sound so achingly familiar that it punched through ten years of separation and landed like a physical blow. I remembered that sigh from childhood—the sound she'd make when I'd finally fallen asleep after a nightmare, when she could finally relax her vigil.
She used to protect me from bad dreams, I thought, throat tight. And then I spent ten years having nothing but bad dreams, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.
"Kara." Blake's hand settled on my shoulder, gentle despite the tension thrumming through him. "We should let them rest. Get you checked out."
"I know." But I couldn't seem to make my hand let go of Celeste's. Couldn't seem to step back from this tangible proof that my parents were alive, that Diana hadn't won, that maybe—just maybe—we could actually have a future together.
Movement from the other bed made me turn. Connor's eyes were open, unfocused and confused for a heartbeat before they found me. The recognition that blazed across his face nearly broke me.
"Kara?" His voice was a rasp, barely audible over the beeping monitors. "My Kara? You're so—Jesus, you're all grown up."
"Hi, Dad." Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot against my frozen skin. Ten years of abandonment and longing compressed into two words. "I missed you."
"I'm sorry." The words came out choked, desperate, and I saw tears tracking down his gaunt face. "Baby girl, I'm so sorry. We thought—we were trying to protect you, but we just—we fucked it all up so badly—"
"Later." I cut him off, aware of the nurse's concerned frown, of my Alphas' protective tension crackling in the air. "You can explain everything later, Dad. Right now you need to rest. You need to get better."
"But—"