The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 2

** Jake’s POV **

The clinic smells like antiseptic, sweat, blood, life and birth. It’s familiar and grounding. The kind of controlled chaos I know how to handle.

“Breathe,” I say calmly, keeping my voice steady as I brace my hands. “You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

The woman in front of me nods, her grip tightening around one of her mate’s hands as another contraction hits. Her mates are both hovering, one trying to stay calm, the other very much failing.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” he asks, looking like he might pass out before she does.

“Yes,” I say without missing a beat. “And if you faint, I’m leaving you on the floor.”

That earns me a weak laugh from the mother, and the tension in the room shifts just enough to keep everything moving forward.

“Good,” I nod. “Again. Breathe through it.”

My assistant watches my movements beside me, watching carefully, trying to keep up. She’s improving, and she hasn’t panicked yet, which is already a win.

Another contraction builds, and the room seems to tighten with it. Everything feels right. I’m here, doing what I love, and my mate… Goddess, my mate has just sealed the bond with Leo, which means commitment. She’s here to stay.

Then a trickle of unease runs down my spine, making my wolf react. I listen carefully to the babies, just moments away from being born. Two healthy heartbeats. Mum looks good too. Everything is running exactly how it should. So why do I feel like something bad is about to happen?

“Jake,” Leo’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

Everything stops. The room is still moving, the woman still breathing, voices still talking. But for me?… everything sharpens.

There’s something wrong. I feel him, and through him, I feel her. A cold sensation runs through me so strongly that my hands still. Cold isn’t right.

“Jake,” Leo says again.

He’s louder this time, still controlled, but there’s something under it. Something urgent. And that makes me almost too afraid to answer him.

“What’s wrong?” I push back through the link, keeping my expression neutral so I don’t worry my patient.

“Push,” I say out loud, refocusing the room.

The woman cries out, and I move with her, instinct taking over even as my attention splits. Leo doesn’t answer straight away, which is worse. My stomach twists as a slew of worst-case scenarios run through my mind.

“Leo.”

“She’s not right,” he finally answers.

The words land like a blow, and my grip on the edge of the bed tightens slightly without meaning to.

Another contraction… another push.

“Again,” I say, fighting to sound controlled. “You’re almost there.”

But my focus isn’t here anymore; it’s split. Half in this room, and half with her.

“She’s cold,” Leo says.

Dread settles in my chest. Because if she’s as cold as I can feel, then we have a serious problem.

Another chill creeps along the bond, brushing against my senses. Poppy doesn’t feel like this; she’s always warm, alive. Bright in a way that doesn’t match the rest of us.

But this? This feels like something… I can’t finish that thought.

“Since when?” I ask, my voice tight now, even in the link.

My mind races. Every instinct screaming at me to drop what I’m doing and run to her. But this is my job, this is what I was born for, and this mother and her babies need me right now.

“A few minutes. After she woke up.”

Woke up. That means she’s conscious. She’s breathing.

“She had a nightmare,” Leo adds.

That doesn’t matter because nightmares don’t do this.

“Jake.”

There it is again, that edge. Leo doesn’t panic. He doesn’t lose control. So the fact that I can hear it at all means this is bad.

“I’m bringing her in,” he says.

Good.

“Yes,” I answer immediately. “Now.”

Another cry pulls me back into the room.

“Jake…” my assistant starts.

“I’ve got it,” I cut her off.

Because I do. I have to.

“Final push,” I say, locking back into the moment. “Right now. You’re there.”

The mother cries out, and then a baby’s cry cuts through everything. Relief floods the room instantly. One of the mates laughs, the other swears, and I move quickly, efficiently, making sure everything is as it should be.

The baby is healthy, breathing, and stable, but my mind is already elsewhere.

“We are on our way,” Leo says.

“How far out?” I ask.

“Five minutes.”

Too long, he should be running with her.

“What do you mean, not right?” I demand.

“Keep her awake,” I tell him. “Don’t let her drift.”

There’s a pause.

“She’s wide awake, Jake. I’ve got her, but she is insisting on walking herself.”

That should be a relief; it is a relief, but it’s also impossible.

“How is her coordination?” I ask.

“Fine. She thinks I’m making a fuss over nothing.”

“Okay, just keep talking to her,” I tell him.

She exhales slowly. “I had a dream.”

Leo huffs quietly. “It wasn’t just a dream.”

“I know,” she snaps, then winces slightly, as if even that took effort.

“What kind of dream?” I press.

Her gaze flickers between us.

“I was on the road,” she says slowly. “There was a crash…”

My hands still for a fraction of a second, and Leo goes rigid beside me.

“Have you ever been in a crash?” I ask carefully, even though just the thought of her being in an accident makes me feel queasy.

She shakes her head.

“No. That’s the thing. I should have been, but I wasn’t there, my parents…” She pauses, taking in a shaky breath. “My parents died in that crash.”

“And that’s the crash you saw?” I ask.

Her eyes well up, and I hate that I’m forcing her to relive painful memories.

“Yes. It was their car, on the same road.”

“Did you see the car after the accident?” Leo asks.

Poppy shakes her head. “I think Paige did; she went to recover their belongings, but I stayed home with the neighbour and Jaxon.”

I press my hand lightly to her chest, over her heart. The rhythm is steady, but something about it feels off.

The lights flicker above us once and Leo’s head snaps up at the same time mine does.

Poppy inhales sharply beneath my hand.

“Jake…” Her voice is quieter now.

“I don’t feel right.”

“I know,” I say, softer now. “It’s okay, try to relax.”

I reassure, the way I always do with patients, even though I have no idea if I can fix whatever this is. My thumb brushes over her wrist, hopefully grounding her. But my mind is already moving ahead.

This isn’t illness or injury. This isn’t anything I’ve ever treated or seen before. I glance at Leo. We don’t need words; we’re already thinking the same thing. This is something else. Something bigger. Something we don’t understand.

Poppy’s grip tightens suddenly in my hand. Her breath hitches, and I feel it, not just cold. Something deeper, almost… pulling. My wolf surges forward instantly.

“No,” I snap, gripping her hand tighter. “Stay with me.”

Her eyes flicker, darkening just slightly. Not enough for anyone who doesn’t know her to notice, but I do.

“Jake, we need you,” my assistant’s voice comes through the mind link. Urgent and panicked. “Baby B’s heart rate just dropped.”

My head snaps toward the door. Timing like that isn’t a coincidence. Not tonight.