Chapter 6: Fiona Is in Labor
Fiona’s POV
It had been months since the day I collapsed in Chloe’s kitchen, sobbing into her arms like a broken pup. And yet, somehow, my world still felt just as hollow. Alpha Dorian never came back.
He listened to my pleas, sure. Nodded. Blinked. But his eyes… they were vacant. That warm glow they once held when he looked at me? Gone. Like someone had reached into his chest and ripped out the bond between us, leaving only cold silence behind.
And the worst part? Chloe had been right all along.
I had just been too stubborn-too heart-sick, too mated-to see it.
Now, I was on my own. Well… not entirely.
I looked down at my swollen belly and felt a tiny nudge from within. My heart squeezed..
“It’s just you and me now, little one.” I whispered, rubbing slow circles along my bump. “And that’s enough. More than enough.”
The pack’s noise hummed faintly outside-the low chatter of lunch hour and clinking dishes from the front of the restaurant-but I barely heard it. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift. Just for a second.
Maybe one day, he’ll realize what he lost.
Maybe he’ll see that we were worth fighting for.
But even as I thought it, a bitter laugh bubbled at the back of my throat.
No. Dorian had made his choice. And it sure as hell wasn’t me.
Every full moon since, I’d felt the ache of our broken bond. Like a phantom limb that still twitched. Even my wolf had grown quiet-withdrawn, protective. She curled around the pup growing inside me like a mother shielding her cub from the storm.
Dr. Harper warned me again and again that stress could complicate a she-wolf’s labor. “You need rest,” she’d said. “You’re walking a tightrope, Fiona.”
I heard Chloe’s voice in my head too-sharp, relentless, and annoyingly accurate. “He’s not coming back. Fee. Stop waiting for a ghost.”
I knew she was right. But I still clung to that last ember of hope like it was oxygen.
So I buried myself in work instead.
The little restaurant I managed became my battleground. I scrubbed floors until my hands were raw. Took double shifts. Folded napkins with military precision. It was the only thing that helped drown out the loneliness. The only thing that made me feel… useful.
Until today.
I was standing at the sink, wrist-deep in suds, the sharp scent of lemon soap stinging my nose. My coworkers buzzed behind me, clanging plates and calling orders. Everything felt normal.
Until it didn’t.
A dull ache bloomed low in my belly.
Then it twisted. Hard.
I dropped the glass in my hand. It shattered against the ceramic sink, shards flying everywhere.
“Shit-“I gasped, clutching the counter as the pain wrapped around my spine like barbed wire.
Then it hit again. Stronger. Deeper.
My knees buckled.
“Ahhh!” The scream ripped out of me before I could stop it. My wolf howled inside me, primal and panicked.
A blur of movement.
“Fiona!” Carla skidded across the kitchen, her face draining of color. “Oh Goddess, you’re in labor-SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
Another contraction slammed through me like a freight train. I bent over the counter, sweat pouring down my face, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. My whole body shook.
Terror gripped me.
Dorian wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be coming. I was about to give birth without my mate. Without the father of my pup. Alone.
No. Not alone.
“Chloe.” I croaked, grabbing Carla’s arm like a lifeline. “Call Chloe. Please…”
She nodded and scrambled for her phone. Another staff member was already kneeling beside me, murmuring something I couldn’t hear over the roar of pain crashing through my body.
I felt the shift beneath my skin-my wolf pressing against the surface, desperate to take over, to protect the pup. But I couldn’t shift. Not now. Not with a baby coming.
The contractions hit harder. Faster. I screamed again, my voice shaking the walls. My knees nearly gave out.
Then-blessedly-Chloe appeared.
“Fiona!” She burst into the room like a whirlwind, her blonde curls flying behind her. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and wet with panic. “Oh my God. I’m here-I’ve got you.”
I collapsed into her arms.
“Chloe… I’m scared.” I whispered, sobbing against her shoulder. “I don’t want to do this alone…”
“You’re not alone,” she said fiercely, holding my face between her hands. “You’ve never been alone. I’m here. I’ve got you. We’re doing this together.”
The paramedics stormed in moments later, their voices firm and calm as they prepped me for transport. I barely heard them over my own
screams.
But I held Chloe’s hand the entire time. She never let go.
Even as they wheeled me through the restaurant and the sirens wailed, I kept my grip on her. My anchor. My sister in everything but blood.
And as the pain crested once more, something inside me snapped into place.
This wasn’t just fear anymore.
It was fire.
I had loved Alpha Dorian with everything I had. And he had left me to face this moment alone.
But my pup?
My pup would never feel abandoned. Never question if they were wanteil. Because I would give them everything.
Even if I had to go full feral and rip through the world to do it.
The sirens were still screaming in my ears when the paramedics burst through the hospital doors, wheeling me inside like a critical case -which, to be fair, I was. Every muscle in my body felt like it was tearing itself apart, and my wolf was clawing beneath my skin, panicked. desperate to protect the pup inside me.
The hallway lights flashed overhead like some kind of cruel countdown. I couldn’t focus on anything but the white-hot agony radiating from my core. I was soaked in sweat, gasping, nails digging into the rails of the stretcher as another contraction ripped through me.
“She’s in labor! Move!” one of the paramedies shouted.
Yeah. No kidding.
The air reeked of antiseptic and panic. Shouting. Footsteps. Too many scents-fear, blood, adrenaline. I could barely breathe through it.
Then I saw her.
Cecilia.
She was on another stretcher just ahead of me, her face twisted in pain, golden hair plastered to her forehead. Her hands clutched her belly. and her cries echoed down the corridor. My breath caught.
No. No way. This wasn’t happening.
She was early. She’d gotten pregnant after me. That was the part that sliced the deepest-seeing her like this, in labor now. Premature. Something wasn’t right.
And still… despite every bitter thing I felt toward her, my gut clenched with fear-for her, for the baby. The wolf in me, even with all our rage. couldn’t ignore another she-wolf in danger.
I barely had time to process it before a nurse-frantic, young-appeared in our path. “We have only one emergency birthing room available!” she cried. “All others are in use!”
She looked from me to Cecilia, her eyes wide with panic. She didn’t know who to save.
That made two of us.
And then-his voice.
Alpha Dorian’s.
“Doctor! Take my mate-save my pup! Please!” he shouted, pushing past the crowd, his scent-cold pine and sandalwood-hitting me like a slap.
My mate.
My pup.
I froze.
He didn’t even glance at me.
Not once.
Not when I whimpered from another contraction. Not when my nails clawed the stretcher rail. Not even when I whispered his name under my breath like a prayer that died halfway out of my mouth.
His eyes were locked on her. On Cecilia.
“I’ll pay anything! Just save them!” he barked, voice raw with fear. His wolf was brimming beneath the surface-I could feel it–but it wasn’t for me. It hadn’t been for a long time.
I’d never seen him like this. Desperate. Unraveled. And not for us. For her.
The nurse hesitated. She looked at me-finally. Her gaze flicked over my heaving chest, the way I gripped my belly like it was the only thing tethering me to the earth.
“Please,” I rasped, barely louder than a whisper.
But Dorian shouted louder.
“I’m Alpha Dorian. I command you, do something!”
That was it.
Decision made.
Without another word, the nurses rushed Cecilia through the doors, doctors trailing close behind. The emergency room doors slammed shut behind them, sealing me out. Sealing me off.
I was left in the corridor. Alone. In agony.
Abandoned.
I let out a sound that wasn’t quite a scream and wasn’t quite a sob-somewhere between fury and heartbreak. My vision blurred, not from the pain this time, but from something colder. Something final.
He had chosen.
And it wasn’t me.
I was still his mate. Still bore his mark. But that didn’t matter now. Whatever bond had once tied us had been cut so cleanly. I could barely feel the echo of it anymore. And maybe the worst part was that he hadn’t even looked back to see what he’d severed.
I curled in on myself, pressing my forehead to the stretcher’s railing as another contraction tore through me.
