( Continued)

stronger. They saw him talking to a doctor, his face crumbling. Their ears, sharper than any human's, strained to catch the words.

"...stabilized her," they heard Dr. Lang say, her voice calm but clear. Then the word that ripped through their despair like a lightning bolt: "...pregnant. About three months along."

A collective gasp, silent and internal, seized them both. A pup. Their pup. The thought, so sudden, so impossible in its timing, was a blinding flash of joy amidst the terror. But then came the doctor's next words: "She had an issue with her pregnancy that was life-threatening for both."

The joy was instantly overshadowed by renewed, gut-wrenching fear. Life-threatening. Their mate, their pup, in danger. All because they hadn't been there. All because they had let her run.

They watched as Dave, Katy's father, was led into her room. The mate bond pulsed, stronger now, a connection to two lives that were irrevocably tied to them. They didn't dare approach him yet. Not now, not when their own shock was so profound, and the truth of what they were, and what they had done, remained a dangerous secret. They needed to know if their pup was truly safe, if Katy would truly recover. And then, they would have to face the impossible task of explaining everything.

The words, "she's pregnant," reverberated through Jayden and Jamie, a deafening echo in the sterile quiet of the hospital waiting room. The sheer shock of it, the impossible joy mixed with the terror of Katy's near-death experience, hit them like a physical blow. Their pup. Their pup. It was an instinctual, undeniable truth that settled deep within their souls, even as their minds reeled.

But they couldn't stay here. Not like this. They were still in the rumpled, ill-fitting clothes they'd stashed for emergencies after their shift, probably smelling faintly of pine and damp earth. They needed to look presentable, to blend in, if they were going to get any closer to Katy and the life growing inside her. Drawing attention now, especially from a bewildered human father, was the last thing they needed.

"We need to go home," Jayden murmured, his voice hoarse, pulling Jamie's gaze from the closed door of Katy's room. "Now. Clothes."

Jamie nodded, his jaw tight. The logical need for clothes was secondary to the primal urge to reclaim their mate, but he understood the necessity of appearances in the human world. They couldn't storm in there in their current state.

They moved with a silent, desperate speed, leaving the hospital as discreetly as they'd entered. The journey back to their secluded home in the outskirts was a blur. Their minds raced, each turn of the familiar road bringing them no closer to answers.

Once inside, they shed their current attire without a second thought, the urgency propelling them. They grabbed fresh jeans, clean t-shirts, pulling them on haphazardly. The scent of Katy, faint on their skin, was a poignant reminder of the precious life now hanging in the balance.

"A pup," Jamie finally said, his voice laced with awe and disbelief, as he struggled to button his shirt.

Jayden ran a hand over his face, his golden eyes still wide with the recent revelations. "And she almost lost it, Jamie. Almost lost them. We have to be more careful. We have to be there. "We can't let her run from us again." He looked at Jamie, the fierce protectiveness of their wolves now fully engaged. "We have to go back. We need to see her, even if it's just from a distance. And we need to find a way to get answers, to explain."

The reality of their situation, the fragile human female, the burgeoning life, and their own complicated existence, pressed down on them. They were no longer just two unbonded alphas searching for a mate. They were protectors, future fathers, and their mate was in danger.

Driven by an urgency that bypassed all exhaustion, Jayden and Jamie made their way back to the hospital. It was late now, the building quieter, the hum of fluorescent lights a low thrum in the deserted corridors. The hallways were empty, bathed in a subdued, almost eerie glow. Not a single nurse was in sight at the station, a stroke of luck that allowed them unhindered passage.

With bated breath, Jayden quietly pushed open the door to Katy's room. The soft click echoed loudly in the stillness, but Katy remained undisturbed, lost in a medically induced slumber.

They stepped inside, their eyes immediately falling upon her. She lay small and vulnerable in the large hospital bed, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman they knew. Their hearts clenched. She looked so sick and pale, her skin almost translucent against the white sheets. A spiderweb of wires connected her to the surrounding machines, each monitor beeping with a steady, relentless rhythm that filled the otherwise silent room. Needles pierced her skin, connecting her to IV bags dripping life-sustaining fluids.

Jayden and Jamie stood there in silence, their own breathing shallow. Their eyes watered, a mix of overwhelming relief that she was alive, and profound agony at seeing her so frail, so

Jayden and Jamie stood there in silence, their own breathing shallow. Their eyes watered, a mix of overwhelming relief that she was alive, and profound agony at seeing her so frail, so fragile. This was their mate, the fierce, captivating woman who had set their souls alight, now reduced to this vulnerable state. And in her, a new life, their life, was tenuously holding on.

Jamie, unable to stand still any longer, moved to the single visitor's chair by the bed and sank into it, his gaze fixed on Katy's face. He reached out, his large hand hovering, wanting to touch her but afraid to disturb the delicate balance of wires and tubes.

Jayden, restless and unable to find comfort, walked to the window sill and sat down. He stared blankly into the night sky. His mind was a tempest of unasked questions and fierce, protective instincts. The hum of the mate bond, usually a comforting presence, was now a painful throb, a constant reminder of the precious life tethered to this fragile form, and the unknown threats that still lingered.