Page 66 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

“Stay with me, love,” I beg, my voice trembling as I cradle her fragile form. Panic courses through me as I feel warmth seeping onto my knees. My eyes dart downwards, witnessing the crimson stain spreading across her dress, pooling between her legs and trickling down the steps.

“No. No, no, no! NO!” I cry out frantically, my mind racing to comprehend the severity of the situation. With every fiber of my being, I know that time is of the essence. Without hesitation, I slide my arms beneath her lifeless body, scooping her into my arms before sprinting towards the doors. Liam races ahead,forcefully shoving them open while urgently summoning the guards to unlock the gates.

Blood coats my arms—her blood—flowing from her head and also trickling between her legs. My clothes become saturated with her life blood as I bolt down the bitumen road, shifting while in motion. The sound of her weakening heartbeat, of our baby’s, reverberates in my ears while I pray for its next beat. But she is still too early for any hope of a viable life to emerge.

My legs falter as the heartbeat ceases. Her pulse weakens, and I glance at her in my arms, I wait for that flutter, needing to hear it and tears blur my vision as I force myself to run harder when I don’t.

The doctor’s surgery come into view ahead of me, its brick facade a flicker of desperate hope. People stare in shock as the doctor bursts through his surgery doors, his medical gear clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes widen as he spots us, and he wastes no time rushing back inside, barking orders at his nurses to prepare a gurney.

Navigating through the corridors of the aging brick building, we reach a room where the nurses anxiously await our arrival. Carefully, I lay Azalea down on the gurney, her body appearing fragile and vulnerable. The doctor swiftly places his bag beside her, his sense of urgency palpable as he whisks her away. I move to follow, but Liam’s firm grip on my shoulder halts me in my tracks.

“You’ll just get in the way,” Liam says, but I could heal her. I am about to say that when Liam speaks, seeming to know what I am going to say.

“Some things can’t be healed, my King. Let Doc work,” Liam says, and moments later, Damian burst through the surgery doors. He looks at me, his eyes then moving to Liam’s hand holding my shoulder.

“Come on, let’s wait outside. There is nothing you can do right now,” Damian says, and I shake my head.

“Come on. Come have a smoke,” Liam says, pushing me toward the doors, and am forced to take my eyes away from where Doc took her through the double doors to the day surgery area. Liam pushes me out the doors, nudging me and I reluctantly step outside, and he shoves his smoke packet in my hand, yet I don’t light one when he pulls two from the packet and lights them, keeping one for himself and passing me the other.

“Azalea will be okay,” Liam says, blowing smoke into the air. “She is tougher than she looks,” he says.

“The baby?” I ask. Neither of them says anything. Even though I know that if she is alright, the baby isn’t going to be. Which makes me wonder if Azalea will be alright after all.

The doctor confirms that when he steps out the doors twenty minutes later. He tugs his gloves off.

“Azalea?” I ask.

“Alive. She is still unconscious. I stitched her up. The bleeding stopped, but you could probably help that healing process,” Doc says, and I nod.

“Our baby?” I ask, grasping on to any form of hope.

“I’m sorry, My King. The fetus didn’t make it,” he tells me. Fetus. I hated the way he said it, but she was just in her second trimester. My legs buckle under me, and I hit the ground hard at his words. My heart sinks and my stomach drops at the information.

I failed her! I should have figured it out earlier. Peter was a child and the last person I would have suspected! I failed her, and it cost us our baby and nearly her life! How do I tell her that?

“Azalea needs you, Kyson. Get up,” Damian says.

“We lost the baby,” I murmur, trying to wrap my head around everything.

“I know, but if you don’t get up and get in there, you may lose her, too. Now up,” Damian says, gripping my arm and Liam grabs the other; they haul me to my feet.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on, big fella. Your Queen needs you. Break later, but not in front of her,” Liam says, pushing me towards the doors.

It takes hours for her to wake up, and Damian goes back to the castle to retrieve some clothes, so I’m not walking around in just a hospital gown. I have just walked back into the room to find that she is sitting up. I feel nothing through the bond to tell me she has woken, and I only stepped out a minute to change quickly. Pinching the fabric of her hospital gown, she peers inside before rubbing her thighs. Her lips tremble, and she stares at her hands. Doc and I make sure to clean her up, so she isn’t drenched in blood, but it seems like that is all she sees as she examines her trembling hands. Closing the distance between us, I notice her head rise, her eyes meeting mine. There is no emotion in her voice, and the bond between us feels nonexistent.

“Do you feel it?” she asks, halting my hand as it reaches towards her. I swallow hard and step closer, my fingers finding the back of her neck as they weave through her hair. Yet still, there is no response through the bond.

“I could feel it... feel it leaving me,” she whispers, her vacant stare fixed on my chest.

“I know, love,” I whisper back, but she remains frozen in place, staring off into nothingness.

“How about we get you home?” I suggest, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction from her. But once again, she says nothing, not even a blink. She is like an empty shell, and I fightthe urge to growl. I will kill him, but first, I need to take care of her, but he will die for doing this to her once I find out why. Azalea has no reaction when I pick her up, none at all. I take her home and set her in her den, and she lays down.

Three days later

For three days she has remained in bed, refusing to eat or sleep. Doc came by yesterday and assured me that it is to be expected, but I can’t bring myself to leave her side. The bond between us feels nonexistent, and it’s as if she isn’t even there, even though I can see her right before me.

Brushing her hair back, I attempt to move her up the bed so she can rest against me, but she slides right back down into her den, seeking comfort beneath the blankets as if they can shield her from the world.

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