Chapter 4: The Cold Discharge

- WILLOW

The fluorescent light above the hospital bed hummed, buzzing right into my skull. My eyes fluttered open to white ceiling tiles and the sharp smell of antiseptic.

A doctor in blue scrubs was standing by the monitor, checking a chart. He looked up, his face immediately softening into that sympathetic, carefully practiced expression.

"Ms. Talley," he said softly, pulling a stool closer. "I'm so sorry. We couldn't save the baby. There were severe complications from the trauma, and we had to clear the tissue immediately to stop the internal bleeding."

I didn't say anything. I just stared at the beige wall across from me, my hands lying totally flat against the cold sheets. My stomach felt hollow. Empty.

"The emergency procedure paperwork requires your Alpha’s signature to officially discharge you," the doctor continued, shifting uncomfortably. "Should I call him for you?"

I remained silent, staring at a tiny crack in the paint. He took the quiet as a green light, tapping his phone screen and setting it to speakerphone right beside my pillow.

It rang three times before picking up.

"What?" Callum’s voice cut through the speaker, breathless and loud over a chaotic background of hospital chatter.

"I had a miscarriage," I said. My words came out in a voice I hardly recognized. It was flat, cold, and completely emotionless. "I need your signature for the hospital release."

A loud snort came from the speaker, followed by a wet chuckle. "When were you pregnant, Willow? Seriously, why didn't I know about this? Stop messing around. Sherly's in labor right now. I don't have time for your weird little attention games."

Before I could speak, a shrill, newborn cry echoed through his end of the line. Then another one right after it. A chorus of nurses and pack guards erupted into loud cheering in the background.

"Oh man," Callum breathed out. His tone changed completely, filling with genuine excitement. "Sherly gave birth. Twins, Willow. Healthy twins. Look, I gotta go, the nurse is handing me the boy."

The call ended.

The doctor stared at the phone in his hand, his mouth slightly open. He looked like he wanted to swallow himself whole right then and there.

"He's busy staying with his sister-in-law while she gives birth," I told the doctor, pulling the thin blanket off my legs. "Hand me the pen. I'll sign the damn papers myself."

"Uh... legally, we usually..."

"Just let me do it."

He handed it over without another word. I scribbled my name across the red line, swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, and stood up. My knees wobbled, but I forced my spine straight.

Ten minutes later, I slammed the passenger door of a taxi.

When I walked through the front doors of the Ashbourne estate, the silence settled over the place, making it cold and deserted.

I dragged my feet across the polished floorboards like a ghost haunting its own house.

"Miss Willow?"

Old Thomas, the head butler, scurried out from the dining hall, his hands trembling as he wrung a towel. His eyes were wide with genuine terror. "Thank God, they released you. Are you alright? The doctor... did they..."

"I'm fine, Thomas," I murmured, keeping my head down.

"I was so terrified when I saw you on the steps," the old man stammered, his voice cracking. "I ran to get the medical kit, but before I could even reach you, that gamma boy, Dexter, he came bursting through the side doors like a madman. Scared the life out of me. He picked you up before I could even speak, threw you in the back of his car, and tore off down the driveway like a demon possessed..."

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, my hand gripping the dark wood banister. Dexter?

"He is the one who brought me to the hospital?"

"Rushed you there himself, ma'am. Drove straight over the lawn." Thomas shook his head. "I thought... well, I'm just glad you're home."

I didn't answer. I just nodded once and pushed myself up the stairs, heading straight for my bedroom. I needed to wash the smell of bleach off my skin. I needed to sleep for a thousand years.

I stared at my phone and pulled up the private chat. My thumb hovered over a name I barely used, and typed out six words: "Dexter, can you come and meet me?"

I had just sat down on the edge of the mattress when the bedroom door swung open.

Callum walked in, tossing his jacket over a chair. He looked exhausted, his hair a messy mop, but there was a bright, satisfied glow in his eyes.

He walked over, sat down right next to me on the bed, and reached out to stroke my hair.

I flinched, pulling my head back so fast his hand caught empty air.

He let out a tired sigh, dropping his arm. "What were you doing today, anyway? Why were you calling me with all that nonsense? Luckily, Sherly's fine. My brother's kids were born completely healthy."

I kept my eyes locked on the carpet, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw throbbed.

"The babies are adorable, Willow," he rambled on, totally blind to the storm sitting right next to him. "They're so tiny. Their little hands... man. You're definitely gonna like them once you see them."

"Someone else's children are that adorable?" I asked softly.

Callum froze. He turned his head to look at me, and the moment his eyes hit mine, he flinched. The venomous hatred radiating off me made him pull back an inch.

"What do you mean, someone else's children?" he muttered into a defensive growl. "They're my dead brother's kids, Willow. Have some respect."

"Oh, so you do know that," I sneered, a bitter laugh popping out of my throat. "Good. Because if you hadn't said it, I would've sworn on the Moon Goddess you were the father with the way you sprinted out of here."

Callum’s face darkened. He stood up, running a hand over his face in irritation. "You are being ridiculously unreasonable right now. She was in labor!"

I stood up too. Before he could even finish his sentence, my arm whipped across the space between us, landing hard across his face.

The sudden noise tore through the silence. Callum’s head snapped to the left, his cheek instantly flushing bright crimson. He turned back to me, eyes wide with utter shock, his jaw working as he tried to process what just happened.

"Do you know where I was today?" I whispered, my voice shaking with a rage so hot it burned my throat. "Our baby died today, Callum. While you were holding her hand in the delivery room, I was bleeding out on the floor. The doctor said if I had gotten there ten minutes earlier, our child might've made it."

Callum stared at my bloodshot eyes. His chest heaved once, twice, and then the anger drained out of his face, replaced by that infuriating, patronizing pity he always used when he thought I was being emotional.

"Come on, Willow," he said, his tone softening like he was talking to a throwaway stray dog. "I know you've always wanted a kid. I get it. But this kind of stuff... it depends on fate, babe. You can't force these things."

He took a step closer, shaking his head. "Did seeing Sherly give birth upset you that much? Just go to bed. Get some rest, okay? You're talking crazy."

A harsh, breathless laugh tore out of my mouth. "So you still think I'm lying. You actually think I'm making up a dead kid."

Seeing me start to hyperventilate, Callum stepped in and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight, suffocating hug. "Fine, fine. You were pregnant. I was wrong, okay? Whatever you say."

He patted my back like soothing a child having a tantrum.

I stood stiff as a board in his grip, my stomach turning violently upside down. The smell of his cologne mixed with Sherlyn's heavy floral perfume made me want to vomit right onto his shirt.

I shoved my hands against his chest and pushed him away with everything I had.

He stumbled back, raising his hands in surrender, clearly convinced he had successfully managed my little mood swing.

"Anyway," Callum said, smoothing down his collar like nothing had happened. "Sherly wants that herbal soup you always make. Can you whip up a batch? I'll swing by and grab it from the kitchen this afternoon to bring to her room."

I could only stare at him, unable to find a single word. I had to admit, his audacity was almost impressive.

The phone in my palm vibrated. I glanced down at the dark screen.

Dexter: I'll be there in ten minutes, my princess.

A cold, wicked smile spread across my face. I looked back up at Callum, my eyes entirely dead.

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

Callum smiled, looking utterly relieved that I was finally being "obedient" again. "Thanks, babe. You're the best."

He turned on his heel and hurried out the door, eager to get back to his real family, completely unaware that the woman he left behind was already gone.