Chapter 182

Kayla

I paced the length of the hospital waiting room, my nerves frayed to the breaking point. Every few steps, I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, watching the hands move with excruciating slowness.

Twelve hours. Emma had been in surgery for twelve hours now.

Jade sat huddled in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her normally bright eyes were red and swollen from crying, dark circles indicating she hadn’t slept at all. None of us had.

Across from her, Marcus looked like a ghost of himself. His normally confident posture was gone, replaced by the defeated slump of his shoulders as he held his head in his hands. I’d never seen him like this before. Nicholas stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder and a solemn face.

And then there was Grace. We’d informed her of the guild’s decision yesterday, and had driven her from her cabin to stay with us in Bluemoon while Emma was in the hospital. She wanted to live in the cabin still, but wanted to be nearby to be there for Emma.

I was glad to have her here.

This was the second surgery in twenty-four hours. The first one had gone well, or so we’d thought. Emma had been stabilized, the internal bleeding supposedly stopped. We’d all breathed a sigh of relief, allowed ourselves to believe the worst was over.

Then, in the early hours of the morning, Emma’s blood pressure had plummeted, her body going into shock as the bleeding started again. They’d rushed her back into surgery, and we’d been waiting ever since.

Suddenly, the door to the waiting room swung open, and we all looked up in unison. A doctor in surgical scrubs entered, pulling down his mask. His face was drawn and tired, but there was something else there that made my heart stutter.

Hope. There was hope in his eyes.

Marcus shot to his feet so quickly that his chair toppled backward. “How is she?” he demanded, the first words he’d spoken in hours.

The doctor took a deep breath. “She pulled through the surgery,” he said, and the collective sigh of relief in the room was audible. But then he held up a hand, tempering our reaction. “But just barely. She lost a significant amount of blood, and her body has been through tremendous trauma.”

My throat tightened. “What does that mean? Will she be okay?”

“Her wolf has put her into a protective coma,” the doctor explained. “It’s a defense mechanism that wolves sometimes trigger during significant injury to aid the healing process. It allows the body to focus all its energy on repair rather than consciousness.”

“A coma?” I choked out. No. Not again. Not after my father. The thought of another person I loved trapped in that limbo between life and death made me want to scream.

“How long will she be unconscious?” Nicholas asked, his voice steady even as his hand tightened on Marcus’s shoulder.

The doctor shook his head. “That’s impossible to say. It could be days, weeks… potentially longer.” Or never, I knew he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to break the news. “Unless she makes a miraculous recovery, we’re looking at an extended unconscious state.”

Marcus swayed slightly, and Nicholas’s grip on him was likely the only thing keeping him upright.

“Can we see her?” Jade asked.

“Yes, but only for a few minutes. She’s in the ICU. No more than three visitors at a time, please.”

We nodded, and the doctor led us down the sterile hallway. The walk seemed endless. When we finally reached Emma’s room, I hesitated at the doorway, afraid of what I would see. But Nicholas’s hand found the small of my back, a gentle pressure urging me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

My heart shattered at the sight of her. She looked so small and fragile. Tubes and wires connected her to various monitors, an oxygen mask covering the lower half of her face. Bandages wrapped around much of her body, stark white against her pale skin.

“Shit,” Grace breathed, her hand flying to her mouth.

Marcus rushed to Emma’s side, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He took her hand in his, pressing it against his forehead as his shoulders began to shake.

I approached slowly, each step feeling like I was wading through concrete. It was too reminiscent of those long days sitting beside my father’s hospital bed, begging him to wake up.

Jade moved to the other side of the bed, her fingers gently brushing Emma’s hair back from her forehead. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re all here. We’re not going anywhere.”

I leaned down and pressed my lips to Emma’s cold cheek, my tears falling onto her skin. “Wake up, Emma,” I said softly. “Please wake up. We need you. You need to get better and come back to us.”

She remained still, the only movement the steady rise and fall of her chest, mechanically aided by the machines surrounding her.

After a few minutes, the doctor returned, gently informing us that we needed to leave. Marcus refused to move, and after a brief argument, the doctor relented, allowing him to stay while the rest of us left the room.

In the hallway, I leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling like my legs might give out beneath me.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered. “She was just trying to protect us. To protect me.” It felt like my fault, somehow.

Nicholas wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. “She’s going to be okay, Kayla. Emma’s one of the strongest people I know.”

Jade nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Marcus will help her through this,” she said. “They’ve always had a special bond.”

Grace looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“They lost their mother when they were young,” Jade explained quietly. “Their father… he couldn’t cope and so he turned to alcohol. Marcus basically raised Emma himself. They’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s always been intensely protective of her.”

“Oh.” Grace bowed her head. My heart ached for them both. I’d known they were close, but I hadn’t realized the depth of it.

“Marcus was only twelve when their mother died,” Jade continued. “Emma was eight. He made sure she ate, went to school, did her homework. He defended her against their father’s drunken rages.”

My throat bobbed. The thought of Marcus, just a child himself, stepping up to care for his sister in the absence of parental love, broke something in me. It made Emma’s current state all the more devastating, knowing what they’d already been through together.

Jade reached out, squeezing my arm gently. “If anyone can bring her back from this, it’s Marcus,” she assured me—all of us. “I’ve studied many magical medical books, and the bond between family—especially siblings who have suffered together—is one of the strongest forces in existence. His love for her will be what heals her in the end.”

I wanted to believe her. Needed to believe her.

Taking a breath, I glanced back toward Emma’s room, where Marcus still knelt by her bedside, his head bowed as if in prayer. I hoped Jade was right. I hoped that love—that invisible, unbreakable thread—would be enough to bring Emma back to us.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Nicholas made calls, ensuring both Nightshade and Bluemoon continued to run smoothly in our absence. Jade left briefly to shower and change, returning with food that none of us really ate. Grace knitted frantically, making a bright pink scarf for Emma “for when she wakes up.”

Marcus refused to leave Emma’s side the entire time, and eventually, the nurses stopped trying to enforce visiting hours with him. They brought him a cot, which remained untouched. He kept his vigil, speaking softly to his sister, telling her stories from their childhood, reminding her of all the reasons she needed to wake up.

By nightfall, exhaustion had seeped into my bones. Nicholas found me slumped in a chair outside Emma’s room, my eyes barely staying open.

“Come on,” he said gently, helping me to my feet. “Let’s go home. We’ll come back first thing in the morning.”

I wanted to protest, but I knew staying wouldn’t change anything. Besides, I could barely keep my eyes open, and I knew that in my condition, I needed to rest—for the baby, if nothing else.

Back at our home in Bluemoon, the silence felt oppressive. We climbed into bed, both of us too exhausted for words. I curled against Nicholas’s side, careful of the bandage still wrapped around his torso. My fingers traced it gently, a reminder of how close I’d come to losing him too.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer despite his injuries. His lips found mine in the darkness, and I leaned into the sensation.

“Get some rest,” he finally whispered against my lips. “For you and the baby. The Blood Moon Revelry is in a few days, after all.”