Seraphina’s POV
The soft beeping of machines had beco the soundtrack to my new existence. Three weeks in this sterile white room, three weeks of watching the sa patch of afternoon sunlight creep across the floor, marking ti I couldn’t get back.
Three weeks of being utterly, completely alone in my own head.
I shifted carefully in the hospital bed, wincing as my ribs protested the movent. The doctors said I was healing remarkably well for a human. That phrase haunted .
*For a human.*
Because that’s what I was now. Just human. Weak, fragile, ordinary.
The silence in my mind was deafening. No Ayla’s warm presence. No pack connection humming in the background like a constant heartbeat. No enhanced senses bringing information about the world around . Just... nothing.
I pressed my palm against my stomach, feeling the slight curve where our baby was growing. At least you’re okay, little one. At least you survived what I couldn’t protect you from.
The baby was the only good thing to co out of this nightmare. Dr. Morgan checked daily, and every ti she smiled and said the sa thing: "Strong heartbeat. Growing perfectly. Your little miracle."
My miracle. The one bright spot in this sea of loss.
"Knock knock!" Adrian’s voice preceded him through the door, followed by the sound of small sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. "Mama, I brought you sothing!"
My heart clenched with love and pain as my five-year-old son bounded into the room, clutching a slightly wilted dandelion in his tiny fist. His silver-blue eyes—so much like his father’s—sparkled with excitent.
"I picked it from the garden!" He climbed carefully onto the chair beside my bed. "It’s yellow like sunshine to make you feel better."
"It’s beautiful, sweetheart." I reached out to stroke his soft brown hair, my movents still careful and deliberate. Everything hurt, but seeing Adrian’s smile was worth any amount of pain. "Thank you for thinking of Mama."
"Are you gonna co ho soon?" His bottom lip wobbled slightly. "I miss having bedti stories. Daddy tries, but he does the voices all wrong."
"Soon, baby," I lied, forcing a smile. "Mama just needs to get a little stronger first."
"You’re growing my baby brother or sister in your tummy." His eyes went wide with wonder. "Is that why you’re so tired?"
"That’s part of it." I smoothed his hair again, morizing the silky texture. "The baby is growing nice and strong, just like you did."
"Can I feel?" Adrian’s hand hovered over my stomach with the careful reverence only children possessed.
I guided his small palm to the slight curve, even though it was too early for movent. "Right there. That’s your little brother or sister."
Tears threatened to spill as I watched him. How was I supposed to raise him without Ayla’s strength? How could I protect him when I couldn’t even protect myself?
"Adrian." Damien’s voice from the doorway made look up. He leaned against the fra, watching us. "Ti to let Mama rest."
"But I just got here!" Adrian protested.
"You can co back tomorrow," Damien promised, moving into the room. He was dressed in one of his perfectly tailored business suits, looking every inch the powerful Alpha he was. It made the distance between us feel even wider. "Mama needs to sleep so she can get better."
Adrian sighed dramatically but climbed down from the chair. He gave a careful hug, mindful of my bandages, and whispered in my ear: "I love you, Mama. Co ho soon, okay?"
"I love you too, sweetheart."
Damien walked Adrian to the door, speaking quietly to whoever was waiting in the hallway—probably Ophelia or Lucas.
He looked tired. His usually perfect appearance was slightly rumpled, and there were new lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there a month ago. The guilt in his expression deepened every ti he looked at , and I knew why.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked, settling into the chair Adrian had vacated.
"Better," I lied automatically. "Dr. Morgan says I might be able to go ho next week."
Sothing flickered across his face—relief mixed with what looked like panic. "That’s... that’s good news. But you shouldn’t rush it. Take all the ti you need to heal properly."
And then he was gone, leaving alone with the beeping machines and the crushing weight of everything I’d lost.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but rest wouldn’t co. Instead, I listened to the sounds of the hospital around . Nurses’ soft-soled shoes in the hallway. Muffled conversations at the nurses’ station. The distant ding of elevator doors.
And then, Damien’s voice, farther than it should have been.
"Claire? Yeah, I know it’s late."
I opened my eyes, realizing he must be just outside my room, probably thinking I was asleep. His voice carried through the partially open door clearly enough for my rely-human hearing to catch.
"We need to start the hiring process for a new assistant," he was saying. "Soone with experience in pack business managent."
My heart stopped.
A new assistant. To replace .
"I know it seems premature," Damien continued, "but we can’t keep operating short-staffed. And Seraphina... she needs to focus on her recovery right now. This stress isn’t good for her or the baby."
Claire’s response was too quiet for to hear, but Damien’s next words hit like a slap.
"No, she can’t co back to that role. Even when she’s physically healed, she’s... different now. Vulnerable. I can’t put her in a position where she might be targeted again."
*Because I’m human now. Because I’m weak.*
The words shattered sothing inside that I hadn’t even realized was still intact. Whatever foolish hope I’d been clinging to—that maybe things could go back to normal, that maybe we could find a way through this together—crumbled to dust.
He was moving on. Moving past . Finding a replacent.
"Email the candidates’ resus tomorrow," Damien said. "Schedule interviews for next week. I want soone in place before... before she cos ho."
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