Birth

EVERETT

I’m back in my seat at the head of the table in the meeting room, flanked by Ace and Lucius. The leaders of my warrior squads, as well as the council of elders, fill the rest of the chairs.

All around us stand other members of the pack. The pack house is full to bursting, everyone wanting to know what was going on and weigh in on what we should do.

I’m very aware of the empty chair to my right where Aurora should be. I know everyone else is, too. I just hope no one will be angry at her for skipping the meeting. I’m not in the mood to be kind about it.

“We are here to discuss the claim on Aurora and her unborn child, made by Martha from the so-called Red Moon Pack.”

“Why do you say so-called?” Richard, eighty years old and still strong enough to lift a boulder over his head, leads the council of elders. He’s got a frown on his bearded face.

I scowl. “The Red Moon Pack is under my leadership now. This is a renegade branch, unworthy of our time and respect.” I hear noises of agreement, mostly from the warriors.

Richard sighs and shakes his head. “I understand what you’re saying, Everett, but we can’t just start ignoring pack laws we don’t like.”

The rest of the council nods. “They have a right to claim themselves as a separate pack,” says Zeke, the youngest member of the council at sixty-eight, a quiet man.

Joan, seventy-four and a retired teacher, adds, “If it’s the law, it’s the law. If we’re going to fight this, it needs to be done legally.”

“What is your proposal?” I say, tapping my leg to keep my voice calm. “We don’t have time to bring it before an Alpha Council.”

We could challenge it after the fact, but I was not letting them take my mate or my baby, not for one minute.

“The council suggests looking through the library and seeing if there’s some precedent we can use to solve this,” Richard says, looking around to see what the pack thinks.

Delilah looks mutinous. “Alpha Everett said they’re no better than rogues, and I agree. We should ignore their demand and run them off, like we would any other group.”

Samuel is quick to back her up. “We won’t give up our luna, or the heir to our pack, without a fight.” This gets a big cheer from the warriors.

“Please, be reasonable,” Richard shouts over the noise. “I was a warrior once, too, but we can’t solve everything by charging into a fight.”

Before the arguing can continue, The door to the pack house is thrown open. I stand to see who it is, and my heart stops when I recognize Beth, one of Aurora’s guards.

She’s panting, her eyes wild. “Alpha! Rory - Luna Aurora - she’s gone into labor!”

My brain stops working, and my ears are ringing. “Where is she?” I say, mouth dry.

Beth gestures to the left. “She’s being brought upstairs now.”

The pack erupts into chatter. I sprint out of the meeting hall without another word, unable to think of anything but getting to Aurora right now.

By the time I get to our bedroom, Freya and the doctor are already there, getting the room prepared. I’m glad my mate will get to have her best friend midwife for her, like she wanted.

Aurora is lying in our bed, her face screwed up in terrible pain, doing her best to breathe through the contraction. She’s pale and sweaty, and I hate that I can’t do anything to help her.

Chaos is pacing inside me, urging me forward, displeased at the distance between us. I kneel down beside her and take her hand, squeezing it. “I’m here, little mate. I’ve got you.”

Her face relaxes a little, and she finds a smile for me. “I’m glad you’re here.” Before she can say anything else, another contraction hits her, and she doubles over, whimpering.

Freya hands me a damp cloth, and I use it to wipe the sweat from her face, whispering praise into her ear. “You’re doing amazing. You’re so incredible. I’m proud of you.”

An hour passes, then two, then three. Six hours later, there’s still no baby, and Aurora is completely exhausted.

The doctor has been taking Aurora’s vitals, frowning a lot at charts, and generally bustling around without being any help. “What the hell’s going on?” I ask him. “Is something wrong?”

The doctor doesn’t answer me. Freya puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes her head. “I know it’s been a long time, but let him focus. You just stay with Rory, alright?”

At the nine-hour mark, the doctor straightens up during a check of Aurora’s dilation. “It’s happening. Alright, Aurora, I know you’re tired, but you need to rally now, okay? Give me a big push.”

Aurora braces, bearing down on the next contraction. She squeezes my hand so hard I can feel bruises forming, but I barely even notice.

After all that waiting, it only takes five minutes for him to slip free of his mother. My son, bloody and healthy and wailing his lungs out.

I kiss her forehead, giddy. Chaos is frolicking like a pup. “You did it! You did it. He’s perfect, you’re a hero.”

“He’s beautiful,” she whispers, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Freya brings him over for her to see, and he quiets under her touch.

“Hang on,” the doctor says, brows furrowed. “I’m seeing another head.”

“What?” I say, blankly. After all that insisting that there was only one baby in the sonogram?

The doctor spares me a glance. “It seems you were right after all, Everett. You’re having twins.”

I don’t really have time to process that, the doctor saying, “I’m sorry, Aurora, I’m going to need you to be strong a little longer, okay? Let’s get this little one out into the world.”

Aurora sits up and pushes, screaming as she does. I watch in awe as she brings our second child into the world.

The doctor holds her up. “Congratulations, it’s a girl.” She’s crying, just like her brother was. They both have strong lungs.

Freya takes the girl too, bringing her over for us to see. I touch their heads reverently, already covered with soft, downy hair, a dark brownish-red somewhere between Aurora’s and mine.

Aurora collapses back on the pillows after kissing their hands. She’s completely exhausted, her eyes barely staying open.

“Let me take these two and get them checked over and cleaned up, alright?” Freya cradles both of the babies in her arms and takes them away.

“You did it,” I say again, amazed. But she doesn’t answer. She’s pale, very pale, and my heart clenches. I kiss her forehead, and she’s cold. “Aurora? Sweetheart, do you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, her breath grows reedy, then stops altogether. I watch as the light in her eyes fades. I can’t hear her heartbeat. She’s dead.

Chaos howls in agony as I drop to my knees, all my happiness gone.