Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92

“Don’t think that way,” Evelyn said gently, though I could hear the genuine concern beneath her attempt at reassurance. “He’s getting the best care available. You did everything right, getting him here quickly, staying with him as long as they’d let you.”

I nodded, though the fear didn’t fully ease, sitting heavy and persistent in my chest as the minutes stretched into hours, the surgical doors remaining stubbornly closed.

My mother arrived sometime later, alerted by Callum, her face pale with fear as she rushed into the waiting room, and I found myself standing to catch her before she could fully spiral into panic.

“He’s in surgery,” I said quickly. “They’re doing everything they can. We just have to wait.”

She sank into a chair, tears already falling, and I settled beside her, understanding her fear intimately given everything I was feeling myself.

“I just talked to him hours ago,” she said, voice breaking. “We had that whole conversation, and I thought -I thought there’d be time to actually figure out what comes next, whatever that looks like. I didn’t think it would end like this, so suddenly.”

“It’s not ending,” I said firmly, needing to believe it as much as I needed her to. “He’s strong. The healers are good. We just have to trust them and wait.”

We sat together through the long, agonizing hours that followed, Evelyn’s steady presence beside me, my mother’s quiet, occasional tears, Callum periodically checking in with the surgical team for updates that offered little beyond confirmation that the procedure was ongoing, that they were managing complications as they arose, that patience remained the only real option available to us.

Somewhere around dawn, exhaustion finally began fully claiming me, my eyes growing heavy despite the persistent, anxious fear still humming beneath the surface. Evelyn noticed, gently encouraging me to rest my head against her shoulder, and I drifted into uneasy, fitful half-sleep, jolting awake every time footsteps approached from the surgical suite, hoping for news, only to watch healers pass by toward other patients, other emergencies, leaving our own agonizing wait unresolved.

The surgical doors finally opened properly around mid-morning, the lead surgeon emerging with an expression that revealed nothing immediately, professional and carefully neutral in the particular way that made my heart lurch with fresh, terrified uncertainty.

“Family of the Alpha,” she said, and I stood immediately, my mother rising beside me, both of us moving toward her with matching desperate urgency.

“How is he,” I asked, my voice tight.

“The surgery went well,” she said, and I felt the words hit me with such immediate, overwhelming relief that my knees actually went momentarily weak. “We successfully cleared the blockage, repaired the damaged section of his heart. He’s in recovery now, stable, though we’ll be monitoring him closely over the next several days.”

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Chapter 92

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“He’s going to be okay,” my mother said, something between question and desperate hope in her voice.

“His prognosis is good,” the surgeon confirmed. “He’ll need significant recovery time, lifestyle adjustments going forward, but yes. Barring unexpected complications, he should make a full recovery.”

Relief flooded through me so completely I had to sit back down, my legs suddenly unable to support the weight of everything I’d been holding through the long, agonizing night.

“Can we see him,” my mother asked.

“Briefly, once he’s settled in recovery. He’ll be groggy, likely won’t remember much of this initial waking period, but yes, you can see him.”

My mother turned to me, tears now falling freely, though relief rather than fear drove them now, and pulled me into a tight hug, both of us holding onto each other in the exhausted, overwhelming aftermath of the entire terrifying night.

Evelyn joined the embrace a moment later, and I held onto both of them, grateful beyond words for the relief finally washing through the fear that had gripped me since that first frantic phone call hours earlier.

“He’s going to be okay,” I said, mostly to myself, needing to hear the words spoken aloud to fully believe

them.

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