Page 33 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

Consciousness comes in fragments, broken little pieces, a photo taken in long exposure with a shaking hand. The clinic's fluorescent lights swim above me—first harsh as desert sun, then dim as twilight, never quite settling into focus. Everything hurts in a distant, underwater sort of way.

My brain tries to catalog the sensations, to sort and individuate them: the sharp sting at my temple, the dull ache in my bones, the way colors blur and sharpen like adjusting aperture.

Voices filter through the haze, urgent and overlapping:

"We need to move now, while we still have the cover of darkness," Marcus insists, his voice carrying that edge of Alpha authority that used to make me feel safe. "Kane's people will regroup by dawn. And he’s still alive—Iknowhe’s still alive—"

"James can barely stand," Asher counters, exhaustion threading through his usual calm. "He took a bullet to the kidney; he’ll be down for the count for weeks. And Elena's concussion—”

"We don't have a choice!" Marcus's fist hits something solid, and it rattles. The top of a desk or a table, I speculate in the foggy recesses of my mind. "Every minute we stay puts everyone in danger. The whole pack—"

"Then we figure something else out," Elena cuts in, her voice faint but sharp. "We've survived worse. You can’t be rash, Marcus, youcan’t.Don’t do that to us right now. Don’t…”

The words slip away like smoke, like mist. It’s like I’m watching memories I can't quite grasp the reality of.

The present dissolves into the past: another clinic, another time. The antiseptic smell mixing with the flowery scent of our home in California, with the particular scent of Marcus when he was still mine. His hands were gentle on my arm as the doctor stitched up my first ‘battle wound’—a hiking accident, nothing serious, but his eyes had been dark with worry.

"You need to be more careful,"he'd said then, fingers tracing patterns on my skin."I can't—I need you to be safe."

But that was before. Before everything changed. Before he—

"She's burning up." Veronica's voice cuts through the fever-dream, her cool hands on my forehead bringing momentary clarity. "It’s not a bad concussion, but any kind of damage like that throws the immune system for a loop. We need to—”

"Can you bring it down?" Rafael demands, his voice closer now. The scent of my brother wraps around me and I want to reassure him, want to tell him I’m just fine. But I can’t move.

"I'm trying, but no luck yet. Rafael, if you can’t be patient inmyclinic, I’ll have you kicked out—"

More voices overlap, urgent and afraid:

"We can't stay here," Marcus says, and something in his tone makes my wolf whine. He sounds raw, stripped bare, nothing like the controlled Alpha I've known these past weeks. "Kane will regroup, come back stronger. He's seen her now, he knows she matters to me, he'll use her to—he'll—" His voice breaks. "We need to move. Now."

"James isn't stable enough," Asher argues. Something crashes—medical supplies? "Elena’s hurt too, youknowshe is. Don’t be stupid, Marcus. This isn’t like… like last time. You know it isn’t. You’re our Alpha, we’ll do anything to—"

“No,” Marcus is saying, a fearsome, furious sound more than it is a word, “no, no, no—”

"If you’re so determined to go, then we split up." Elena again, determination overriding the pain in her voice. "It’s clear what you’re thinking, Marcus. You don’t have to lie. Ash and James and I can stay, at least until we’re better, and then go east. Let him think we've all gone. And you can… Camila can go somewhere safe, somewhere—"

I can’t fathom half the words, too out of my mind and feverish to even try. Eventually, the voices fade into memory again.

A California evening, golden light spilling through windows like honey. The scent of Marcus's first apartment—coffee, old books, and something that felt like belonging. His hands in my hair, gentle until they weren't, until I was on top of him, and then he was on top of me, and I was truly blissful for the first time in my life. The way shadows gathered in the corners like omens I should have seen.

His voice breaking as he said:"We can't do this anymore. It's not—I'm not—"

His words failed him for the first time since I'd known him. Nowadays, they seem to do that a lot.

Time passes. I float, untethered from my body, untethered from my life. Waiting, hands outstretched into the dark.

"Like hell, you're taking her." Rafael's snarl drags me back to the present, sharp as breaking glass. I can almost see him squaring off with Marcus through my tired, aching eyelids. Just hearing them is enough to know. In my mind, the fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across their faces, making familiar features strange. Marcus is still the young man he was before, the man I knew. And my brother is an awkward teenager, trying to protect me even though keeping him safe ismyjob. It’s almost laughable that he thinks he can win this.

"She's not safe here." Marcus lets out a short, sharp breath through his nose, and I imagine the way his nostrils flare around it. "Kane made himself clear. He wants her dead. He wants her dead, and it’s… it’s because of me, Rafael, and I can’t let that happen, I can’t let her… I can’t…”

"Just like what?" Rafael demands, stepping closer. "What aren't you telling us, Marcus? What really happened five years ago?"

The light changes, dims, brightens again. Time slips sideways into memory again, and I fall.

In a dream, I stand in Marcus's doorway that last final night, coat wrapped tightly around me, watching him as he watches me. The silence between us was thick enough to choke on. Familiar moonlight paints everything in shades of silver and shadow.

Words tangle in my throat:What did I do wrong? Why aren't I enough? Please don't go.

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