The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 2

** Jake’s POV **

I don’t want to move. Every instinct in me is screaming to stay right here, with her. But I don’t get that choice. Because I’m a healer, and right now, something else needs me.

“Leo,” I say tightly, not taking my eyes off her. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Not a chance,” he replies immediately.

Good. I squeeze her hand once.

“Stay with him,” I tell her, softer now.

Her eyes are still slightly unfocused.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she mumbles.

I force myself to step back. To turn and leave. I tell myself she’s okay. Leo won’t let anything happen to her. She’s alive; she’s breathing, but every step away from her feels wrong. Like I’m walking in the opposite direction of where I’m supposed to be.

“Speak to Ronnie; see if he can come over.” I say only to Leo, “I think whatever we are dealing with here might be more his field than mine.”

“On it.”

The cold lingers. Clinging to me. I mentally shove it aside and move faster, pushing back into the delivery room. The shift in atmosphere is immediate. Panic, tension, too many voices.

“Heart rate is dropping,” my assistant says, her hands already moving. “It was steady and then…”

“Okay,” I cut in, stepping back into position. “Talk to me.”

She rattles off numbers. They’re not good. Not catastrophic yet, but there’s a very real possibility we’re heading there fast. “Come on,” I mutter under my breath, refocusing.

This is what I do. This is what I know. I move through it automatically. Checking, adjusting, guiding.

“Breathe,” I tell the mother again. “Stay with me.”

But something feels off; it’s different to before. The room is warmer now, or maybe… I frown slightly… No. It’s not warm, it’s heavy. As if the air has thickened somehow. Like something unseen has stepped into the room. I ignore it. I have to.

“Push,” I say firmly. “We need to get this baby out as fast as possible.”

The mother cries out again. The second baby is close. So close. The head is right there.

“Come on,” I breathe. “You’ve got this.”

Then the heart rate drops dangerously low.

“Cord compression,” I say through the mind link to my assistant. “I need forceps. Move quickly, but don’t look panicked.” My assistant moves without a word as I adjust the bed, tilting it back slightly in hopes of removing pressure from the cord. “Listen to me,” I say firmly but calmly. “The baby is becoming distressed, and we need to get him out quickly. When you feel the next contraction, I need you to pull your knees up towards your chest and push with everything you have.”

The mother’s eyes meet mine. I see the fear there, but I also see that fierce determination that mothers get when their baby is in danger. She nods before looking at her mates.

They both whisper words of encouragement, and the one not holding the first baby helps her pull her knees up into position. They’re calm and quiet. Good. Panic and shouting helps no one.

I know the contraction is starting before the mother shows any signs, because the baby’s heart plummets.

“Push. Now. Give it everything.”

Then it happens. The bond pulses, sharp and violent. Not from Leo, but through him, from her. My head jerks slightly as the lights flicker again. What the…

The cold surges again, but this time it feels more like it’s moving. As if something is being redirected. The baby’s head crowns and my breath catches. There’s too much happening all at once.

“Prep for re-sus,” I link with my assistant.

“That’s it, Mum, the head is out,” I praise.

“I was going to call you, but then she snapped out of it,” he adds.

I press my hand lightly over her heart again. The rhythm is steady, but now I can feel something else. It’s faint, barely there. Like an echo sitting just beneath it. My brow furrows.

“What?” Leo asks immediately.

I shake my head slowly.

“I don’t know.”

Poppy watches me carefully now too.

“You’re doing that thing again,” she huffs.

“What thing?”

“The ‘something’s wrong, but you’re not telling me how bad’ thing.”

Despite everything, my mouth almost twitches.

“Occupational habit.”

She doesn’t smile.

“She’s fine now, though, right?” Leo asks.

I nod. Because physically she is, but tonight something just rewrote the rules, and I have a feeling we’re about to find out what it cost.