Chapter Two

Marisol's POV

The paperwork took three hours.

I signed forms about genetic screening, medical history, psychological evaluations, consent for experimental monitoring. My hand cramped by the end, but Dr. Rhodes walked me through everything with patience I didn't deserve, considering I'd barely slept and probably looked half-dead.

"The procedure is scheduled for next Wednesday," she said, handing me a packet of pre-treatment instructions. "No alcohol, no excessive caffeine, no strenuous exercise. We want your body in optimal condition."

Optimal. Right. My broken, scarred, betrayed body that had already failed me in every way that mattered.

"I'll follow the rules," I promised, tucking the packet into my bag.

"Marisol." Dr. Rhodes touched my arm gently. "I know you're going through something difficult right now. Just remember this is about moving forward. Creating something new."

I nodded because my throat was too tight to speak. She was being kind, and kindness made me want to cry, and I was done crying over things I couldn't control.

The next week passed in a blur of packing boxes and avoiding phone calls. Marcus had the audacity to text me reminders about picking up my stuff, like I was the one inconveniencing him. Lena tried calling from different numbers. I blocked them all.

My sister Claudia flew in from Phoenix to help me move into a cramped studio apartment across town. She didn't ask questions, just showed up with wine and packing tape and righteous anger on my behalf.

"I never liked him," she announced, shoving my books into boxes. "He had weak handshake energy."

"That's not a thing."

"It's absolutely a thing. And Lena? I always thought she was shady. Too many teeth in her smile."

Despite everything, I laughed. "You're making that up."

"Maybe. But I'm right, aren't I?" She paused, holding one of my framed photos me and Marcus at her wedding last year, both of us smiling like we had a future. "You're really okay?"

"No. But I will be."

She hugged me then, fierce and protective, and I let myself lean into it for just a moment before pulling away.

"I'm doing the fertility thing," I told her. "The procedure's Wednesday."

Claudia's eyes went wide. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Why wait? I'm thirty-two, single, and my ovaries are apparently held together with scar tissue and hope. If I want a kid, it's now or never."

"Does Mom know?"

"God, no. You know she'll make it into a whole thing about grandchildren and family legacy and why can't I just find a nice man like you did."

"Hey, Roberto's not that nice. He leaves his socks everywhere." But she was smiling. "I won't tell her. This is your choice, Mari. Your body, your life."

Wednesday came too fast and not fast enough.

I showed up at the clinic at eight in the morning, nervous and nauseated. Dr. Rhodes was waiting, along with two nurses who introduced themselves with names I immediately forgot.

"We're using donor sample B-471," Dr. Rhodes explained, showing me the vial. Stupid how something so small could hold so much potential. "Excellent genetic markers, no hereditary diseases, high motility. You made a good choice."

I hadn't actually looked at the donor profiles that closely. Six feet tall, athletic build, graduate degree, no major medical issues. What else mattered? It wasn't like I was choosing a husband. Just half of my child's DNA.

The procedure itself was clinical and uncomfortable and mercifully quick. Afterward, they had me lie still for thirty minutes while Dr. Rhodes monitored something on an ultrasound machine.

"Everything looks perfect," she said finally. "Now we wait. Two weeks until we can test for pregnancy. Try to stay relaxed."

Relaxed. Sure. I'd just relax while waiting to find out if I'd successfully conceived a child with a stranger's genetic material after my entire life fell apart.

The first week was fine. I threw myself into setting up my new apartment, organizing my research notes, preparing for my position at the university. Keeping busy kept me sane.

The second week, things got weird.

It started with the dreams.

I'd always been a vivid dreamer, but these were different. Intense. Almost real. I was running through forests, but not on two legs on four, powerful and fast, the ground flying beneath me. I could smell everything: pine sap, deer musk, the metallic tang of water over stone. The moon hung huge and bright overhead, and I felt this pull toward it, like it was calling me home.

I'd wake up gasping, my heart racing, sheets soaked with sweat. And the weirdest part? I'd feel disappointed. Like some essential part of me was missing, left behind in the dream.

"Pregnancy hormones," I told myself, even though it was too early for that. Dr. Rhodes had said some women experienced vivid dreams during fertility treatment. Totally normal.

Except the dreams kept getting more intense.

By day ten, I was dreaming every night. Running, hunting, the forest alive around me. And there was always someone else there a presence I couldn't quite see but could feel. Large, powerful, protective. Watching me from the shadows.

Day twelve, I woke up at three in the morning with my hand pressed against the window, staring at the moon. I had no memory of getting out of bed.

Day thirteen, I realized I could hear my neighbor's conversation through the wall. Not muffled sounds actual words. She was arguing with her boyfriend about his mother, and I could hear every syllable like they were in my apartment.

That's when I started to worry.

Day fourteen, I took the pregnancy test.

Two lines. Positive.

I sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the stick, feeling nothing and everything simultaneously. Pregnant. It had worked. Against all odds, my damaged body had done the thing it was designed to do.

I called Dr. Rhodes immediately.

"That's wonderful news, Marisol! Come in this afternoon for blood work to confirm."

The blood test verified it. Pregnant. Early stages, but definitely pregnant. Dr. Rhodes seemed thrilled, the nurses congratulated me, and I floated through the appointment in a daze.

"You'll experience some changes," Dr. Rhodes said as I was leaving. "Hormone fluctuations, mood swings, fatigue. All completely normal. Call if you need anything."

I nodded, clutching the folder of prenatal information, trying to process that I was going to be a mother. Me. Alone, but not alone anymore.

That night, the dreams changed again.

I was still in the forest, still running, but this time the presence stepped out of the shadows. A man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes that caught the moonlight like mirrors silver-grey and inhuman. He looked at me, and recognition slammed through me so hard I stumbled.

I knew him. Somehow, impossibly, I knew him.

He moved toward me, his mouth forming words I couldn't hear, reaching out

I woke up screaming.

My apartment was dark, the clock reading four-fifteen. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my skin felt too tight, like something inside me was trying to get out. I stumbled to the bathroom, flipped on the light, looked in the mirror.

My eyes looked different. The brown seemed lighter somehow, flecked with gold that definitely hadn't been there before.

I blinked. The gold vanished. Just a trick of the light.

But my hands were shaking as I splashed water on my face, trying to calm down. Just dreams. Just hormones. Just stress from everything that had happened.

My phone buzzed from the bedroom. Text from an unknown number: We need to talk. It's about your pregnancy.

My blood went cold.

Another text: The donor sample. There was a mistake.

I stared at the screen, my pulse roaring in my ears.

A third text: I'm coming to see you. Tomorrow. Please don't be afraid.

And then: My name is Kael Blackwood, and that's my child you're carrying.

The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering against the tile floor.

Outside my window, something howled in the distance. Long and low and impossibly close for the middle of the city.

I stood frozen in my dark bathroom, pregnant with a stranger's child, my eyes playing tricks in the mirror, while somewhere out there, someone something was coming for me.

And deep in my chest, in a place I didn't understand, something answered that howl with recognition.