Chapter 65: A Sound in the Dark
Samuel
Samuel and Alexa occupied her room, the weight of recent days pressing down on them like a physical force. Grief hung thick in the air between them, an unwelcome companion they couldn’t shake no matter how hard they tried. The reality still seemed impossible to accept - that some archaic, senseless law had torn Trishelle from their lives, stripping away her safety and their peace of mind.
The pain cut deepest for Alpha Bradley, a wound so profound Samuel could feel it pulsing through their pack bond like a second heartbeat. But the agony wasn’t Bradley’s alone to bear. Samuel carried his own crushing burden. He was her brother. Protection should have been his sacred duty, yet he had failed her when she needed him most.
At this moment, he lay sprawled across Alexa’s bed, his head cradled in her lap while he clung to her as though she were his only anchor in a storm-tossed sea. Her scent - wild berries mingled with fresh rain - worked its magic on the frantic, snarling beast that prowled restlessly in his chest, gradually soothing its rage. Everyone in the pack knew they were mates by now, yet no one had felt like celebrating when Goldmoon’s Luna had been forcibly ripped from their midst. Samuel’s mind kept replaying that terrible moment: James’s harsh, dismissive voice as he rejected Samuel’s desperate plea to accompany his sister. The memory made him tighten his grip on Alexa, shame flooding through him at his failure as a big brother.
Alexa’s hand moved in gentle circles across his back, each stroke a soothing rhythm that spoke of comfort and understanding. Through their bond, she felt every jagged edge of his distress, every sharp blade of self-loathing that cut into his soul.
A knock shattered the quiet - sharp, insistent, demanding attention. Before Samuel could even draw breath to respond, the warrior on the other side pushed the door open without waiting for permission.
Despite the suffocating fog of sadness that clouded his mind, Samuel refused to tolerate some random male barging into his mate’s room uninvited. He shot up from the bed, a feral growl tearing from his throat, and lunged at the intruder. Part of him recognized he was looking for an outlet, someone - anyone - to absorb the frustration and rage he felt toward himself.
The warrior, a mountain of a man with broad shoulders and a face marked by old battle scars, sidestepped Samuel’s clumsy attack with practiced ease. In one fluid motion, he spun behind the younger wolf, grabbed his arm, and pinned it behind his back. He pressed Samuel against the wall, his forearm creating firm pressure against Samuel’s neck - enough to restrain, not enough to truly harm.
"I’m glad to see our Luna’s friend is staying on top of his game," the warrior said, his voice a low rumble that held a hint of approval despite the circumstances, "but right now, Beta Sam asked for you."
He released Samuel, who stumbled forward, shaking out his arm to encourage circulation back into his tingling fingers. The numbness was already fading, replaced by a prickling sensation.
"Why?" Samuel asked, his voice hoarse from disuse and emotion.
The warrior shrugged, his expression growing serious. "All we know is that Alpha Bradley shifted and headed toward Bloodmoon, hopefully to bring Luna Trishelle back. You know what that might mean." He paused, letting the implications sink in. "A fight to the death for one or both of them. Beta Sam thought that in a case like this, the Luna would need someone to be there for her." He locked eyes with Samuel, his gaze unflinching. "Son, that’s why we need you to stop wallowing and head to the garage."
Having delivered his message, the warrior turned to leave. He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder with the ghost of a smirk. "Unless you want to ride on my back when I shift?"
Samuel took exactly two seconds to decide. "Hell, yeah. Let’s go get my Rosebud back."
Trishelle
Trishelle clawed her way back to consciousness, fighting through what felt like layers of thick, suffocating cotton wrapped around her mind. When she finally managed to pry her eyes open, several moments passed before she registered that the ceiling above her looked nothing like the one in her room at Bloodmoon. This ceiling was sterile white, harsh fluorescent lights glaring down at her with clinical indifference.
She blinked slowly, her senses returning one by one like instruments in an orchestra gradually joining a symphony. A soft, rhythmic beeping sound provided a steady background rhythm. Slowly, she raised her hand toward her head, but a small pinch in the back of it made her pause and look down. That’s when she noticed the clear tube attached to the back of her hand, secured with a piece of white medical tape. Following the line with her eyes, she traced it to a bag of clear fluid hanging from a metal pole beside the bed.
The realization dawned slowly: she was in a medical wing. But why?
As her memories crashed back - a violent flash of fur and fangs, of Bradley’s blood staining the ground, of James’s terrible rage - her hands flew to her stomach. The baby bump was still there, a gentle, reassuring curve beneath her palms, but she couldn’t feel the pup move. Not a flutter, not a kick, not even the slightest shift.
Panic seized her. The beeping of the machine accelerated, matching her racing heart beat for frantic beat. She tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp headache that flared behind her eyes like a warning signal, and rubbed her belly frantically. "Please, please, please," she whispered, her voice breaking. Was something wrong with the pup? She remembered bleeding, that warm, wet trickle down her legs. The memory made her stomach clench with fear. Is the little one even alive?
The door swung open, and a doctor she didn’t recognize entered, followed closely by Lorenzo. The fact that he was here - her pack’s doctor, standing in enemy territory - made Trishelle’s mind leap to the worst possible scenario. Her heart rate climbed even higher. The beeping transformed into a frantic, high-pitched alarm that filled the room.
Both men rushed to her bedside. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring their concerned faces into indistinct shapes, and she clutched desperately at the doctors’ arms, her voice emerging as a broken sob. "Why can’t I feel my pup? What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Please, tell me the baby’s okay!"
Lorenzo pulled her into an embrace, gentle but firm, drawing her against his chest. He knew Bradley would be able to sense his mate’s distress now that he was physically closer to her. James, too, might feel it if he had started bonding with the pup. They needed to calm her down quickly, before two frantic, feral Alphas descended on them.
Holding her securely, he whispered while rubbing her back in slow, calming circles. "Hush, Luna. Everything is okay. Breathe with me." He gently eased her back so he could look directly into her tear-filled eyes. "We gave you a mild sedative, completely safe for you both, just to allow your body to rest and heal. The pup is probably still sleeping because of it. It’s perfectly normal, I promise you." He glanced over at his colleague. "Dr. Stephen, if you like, we can do an ultrasound right now, just to be certain. To put your mind at ease."
Trishelle nodded vigorously, wiping away a tear with the back of her trembling hand. "Yes. Please."
They raised her hospital gown, exposing her rounded belly. Dr. Stephen squirted cool gel onto her skin, making her flinch at the sudden temperature change. He moved the transducer around with practiced precision, his eyes focused intently on the small screen he’d wheeled in. Within moments, they had her connected to the machine, and a sound filled the room - a strong, steady, whooshing sound that was the most beautiful thing Trishelle had ever heard. The pup’s heartbeat.
The door opened again, and Bradley and James entered together. Both men’s shoulders visibly dropped at the sight of Trishelle awake and alert, a small, watery smile gracing her lips as she stared at the screen, mesmerized by the little shape swimming in the black and white image.
Turning her head, her smile widened as her eyes found Bradley. "Mate," she whispered, and Bradley wasted no time rushing to her side, his movements careful and controlled despite his obvious urgency. He held her as best as he could, being mindful of the wires and tubes connecting her to various machines. He planted a soft, lingering kiss on her head, breathing in her scent, feeling her gradually relax in his embrace.
James stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, uncertainty written across his features. He wasn’t sure what to do or where he belonged in this moment. Maybe taking her away from her mate hadn’t been the best approach after all. He felt like an outsider peering in on an intensely private moment, yet his wolf adamantly refused to leave until he was absolutely certain that both she and the pup were truly safe. The sound of his pup’s heartbeat flooded the room, and he marveled at how his own heart swelled with a fierce, protective pride and joy he’d never experienced before.
Bradley carefully adjusted Trishelle, lifting her slightly so he could squeeze himself behind her on the narrow hospital bed. She leaned back against his chest, her head fitting perfectly under his chin as though they were two puzzle pieces designed for each other. Bradley felt grateful that he’d taken the time to clean up and make himself presentable. He gazed at the screen, a genuine smile softening his features. He still wanted to be the father of this little one, more than anything in the world.
Bradley could see the discomfort radiating from James as he fidgeted just inside the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He understood the conflicting emotions the other Alpha must be experiencing - an unwelcome guest in his own home, yet drawn by an undeniable connection to the child. Still, the jealous part of Bradley, the part he wasn’t entirely proud of, wished James would simply leave and give them this moment alone.
Just when he thought he might get his wish, James turned toward the door, preparing to exit. Bradley was shocked when a soft voice called out, stopping James in his tracks.
"James," Trishelle said, her voice barely above a whisper. She held out her free hand to him, an invitation and an olive branch.