Page 73 of Wild Heart

Mason blinked. “What do you mean you can’t? It’s starting. You… Natalie needs you.”

“There’s an injured wolf,” she said, her hands steady even as something inside the room fractured. “High up, just past the fence line. If it’s caught in a snare, it won’t survive the night.”

“Olivia.” Mason’s voice was sharp now, edged with disbelief and something close to hurt. “Natalie’s in labor.”

“And she has you,” Olivia said, looking at him fully now, her eyes fierce with quiet conviction. “She has you, and she has Davey. But that animal? It has no one else.”

Mason stared at her, struggling to piece together the two truths in front of him. Natalie in labor, his child on the way… and Olivia, who’d always listened to the earth before anything else, slipping into the woods with nothing but her will and her worn pack.

Olivia turned to Natalie then, who had managed to sit, breathing through another wave of pain.

“I want you there,” Natalie whispered. “I want you with me.”

“I know,” Olivia said softly, crouching beside her. “But this… this is who I am. This is my heartbeat. If I didn’t go, I’d lose something I can’t explain. And you…” she touched Natalie’s cheek, tears glistening in her eyes, “you’ll have everything you need. You’re strong. And Mason… he’ll never leave your side.”

A long silence passed between them, punctuated only by the whistle of wind around the cabin walls.

Then Natalie reached for Olivia’s hand. “I understand. Now go but promise me you’ll be careful.”

Olivia squeezed it. “Always.”

A moment later, she was out the door, wrapped in her long coat, pack over her shoulder, headlamp slung around her neck. She disappeared into the blackened edge of the trail like she belonged to it, the scent of cedar and dusk rising to meet her.Natalie leaned back against the wall, gripping Mason’s hand as another contraction hit.

Mason helped her stand, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I swear.”

The cabin door burst open again as Davey appeared. “Truck’s running. Let’s go!”

They wrapped Natalie in a thick blanket, helped her out into the night. The wind caught at her dress, wrapped around her belly like a warning. The stars had come out, bright and sharp, scattered across the sky like shattered glass. Mason helped her into the truck, sliding in beside her, one hand clasping hers, the other braced on her back as she breathed in short, sharp bursts.

Davey climbed into the driver’s seat, his jaw set, hands steady. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Drive safe,” Mason said, glancing at Natalie’s face. “But drive fast.”

As the truck roared down the gravel road, the sanctuary disappeared behind them, swallowed by darkness and moonlight. Inside, Natalie gripped Mason’s hand and closed her eyes, feeling her body rise like a wave and crash again. Her thoughts blurred with each pulse of pain, but one image held in her mind: Olivia’s back retreating into the forest, walking straight toward danger without fear, because that was who she was.

“She’ll be okay,” Mason whispered again, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for Natalie, or for himself.

The truck curved through the pines, headlights slicing through shadow, wheels skimming corners. In the rearview mirror, the night stretched on endlessly. The world had split in two.

One road led to new life. The other, into the trees, toward silence. Toward something none of them could yet see.

30

The night had folded in fast, thick, black, and wet with rain. The truck’s headlights cut through the darkness in twin blades, illuminating slick ribbons of asphalt, the tall shadows of trees that pressed close to the road like sentinels. The windshield wipers worked in rhythmic urgency, smearing away the sheets of water that lashed against the glass, their beat loud in the silence.

Inside, the cab was dim. Natalie sat in the rear passenger seat, bundled in Mason’s flannel jacket, her breath fogging the window, her hands gripping the edge of the seat beneath her. Her belly rose like a soft hill beneath the blanket draped over her lap. She stared straight ahead, her body tense with effort, every muscle braced for the next contraction. They were coming faster now. Deeper. Pulling at her like a tide she couldn’t hold back.

She said nothing. Not because there was nothing to say but because holding in the panic was all she could do to stay afloat. Beside her, Mason kept one hand on the seat in front, the other on her knee. His grip was steady. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the road since they left. The dashboard lights painted his face in a glow of soft green and amber. He looked calm, outwardly, atleast. But his jaw was tight. The muscles in his neck corded with restraint.

Every bump in the road sent a flicker through his eyes. Every breath Natalie took made him inhale with her, like he could carry the weight of her pain in his lungs if he just tried hard enough. In the driver’s seat, Davey sat stiffly, his hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel.

He stared out the window, but he didn’t see the trees, or the slant of rain, or the endless stretch of winding road that separated them from the hospital. What he saw, again and again, was the door closing behind his mom. Her back as she disappeared into the woods. Her coat flaring like wings in the wind.

The ache in his chest was sharp and unfamiliar. He felt pulled in too many directions, his thoughts scattered like dried leaves across the forest floor. He should be strong, for Natalie. For the baby. But part of him wanted to scream. To turn the truck around. To find his mother and bring her back.

But he didn’t. Instead, he drove, in that growing quiet, between contractions, between breaths, between everything they were trying to hold together. The only sound in the cab was the wipers and the rain. The engine’s low grind. The baby’s silence.

Natalie pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Her skin was damp with sweat, and she swallowed against the rising pressure in her chest. Her teeth clenched as another contraction rolled through her. She didn’t cry out. She wouldn’t. Instead, her hand slid down to her belly, circling slowly, almost apologetically.

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