Page 80 of Rescued By Four Alphas
"Landing in two minutes," the pilot announces.
Below us, I can see our house coming into view. We should be going to the hospital, but Evan made an in-home hospital with some of the most advanced medical equipment available when we found out Dahlia was pregnant. It's only because Dahlia insisted that she went to Dr. Marianna's clinic.
A team in white coats rush to meet us as we land. They transfer Dahlia and the babies easily to where Evan leads them.
For the next six hours, we pace outside while the medical team runs every test imaginable: CT scans, blood work, genetic analysis.
Dr. Harrison finally emerges from the room with Marianna beside her.
"How is she?" Evan demands before Dr. Harrison can speak.
"Physically, she's stable," Dr. Harrison reports. "The surgical repair was excellent, and there's no sign of infection. Her vital signs are strong, and her body is healing well."
"But?"
"But she's not responding to stimuli. We've run extensive neurological tests, and while there's brain activity, she's not conscious."
"What does that mean?" Leo asks.
Dr. Harrison exchanges a glance with Marianna before continuing. "Based on the blood work and the information Dr. Vasquez provided about the experimental drugs, we believe Dahlia's system has been overwhelmed. The trauma of the accelerated pregnancy, combined with cardiac arrest and blood loss, has essentially caused her brain to shut down into a protective state."
"She's in a coma?" Onyx says the word we're all thinking.
"Yes," Dr. Harrison confirms. "Her body is healing, but only she can fight to wake up now."
"How long?" Evan's voice is barely a whisper.
"We don't know," Marianna says gently. "It could be days, weeks, or..."
I sink into one of the chairs, the adrenaline finally leaves my system, and leaves me empty and exhausted. Our children are alive and fighting in the next room. Reid is captured and will pay for what he's done. But the woman who makes us whole,who brought our family into existence, lies unconscious and unreachable.
She doesn't finish the sentence, but we all know what she means. Or never.
Chapter 24 - Leo
Islump deeper into the chair beside Dahlia's bed, my ass numb from sitting in the same spot for the past twelve hours. Nine days. She's been like this for nine days, and the doctors still have no answers. The beep of the monitors creates a hypnotic rhythm that haunts my dreams when I manage to sleep.
I trace circles on the back of her hand. She doesn't look sick, just peaceful, as if she might open her eyes any moment and ask why we all look so worried.
"I sat with the babies today," I tell her, though I know she can't hear me. "They're getting stronger. Our daughter has your nose, you know. And the boys... God, Dahlia, you're going to love them a lot when you wake up."
I check my watch. Another day is almost gone. Another day without her smile, her voice, and her fire. The specialists Evanflew in from Switzerland and Japan offered the same prognosis as everyone else. Wait and see. Her body heals, but something keeps her consciousness locked away.
"The doctors say talking helps," I continue. "That somewhere deep down, you might hear us. I hope that's true. I hope you know we're all here, waiting for you to come back to us."
I've slept maybe ten hours in total since we brought her home, mostly in short bursts in this chair. I fight it now, determined to keep vigil, but my body betrays me.
"I'll just rest my eyes," I mumble, keeping my hand still wrapped around hers.
I open my eyes to find myself in a forest unlike any I've seen before. Ancient pines tower overhead, their trunks wider than cars, and the moonlight filters through the canopy in misty shafts. The air feels charged and electric, as if a thunderstorm is brewing just out of sight.
This place... I know it somehow. It's like a primordial memory encoded in my DNA.
"Nine days, and you sit by her side like a toothless cub."
I spin around and face the source of the voice. It's my grandfather. He's not the frail old man who died when I was sixteen. He's standing nearly seven feet tall, with his massive frame draped in furs and leather. His eyes glow amber in the darkness, like an Alpha in his prime.
"Grandfather," I whisper, the word almost reverent.
