CHAPTER 3: Rescue

ALISHA'S POV

"Pain." That was my first thought when consciousness returned.

The airbag pressed against my swollen stomach. Still deflating.

Everything hurt. My head, chest, and belly were where the twins fought.

I opened my eyes, fractured glass, twisted metal, and a tree trunk inches from my face.

Hissing.

I'd crashed. The memory returned in fragments.

The rejection, the crawling, the desperate drive. And the curve I'd taken was too fast.

I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond.

The twins, were they okay? I pressed my hand to my belly. Thankfully, I felt movement.

"Thank God," I whispered.

"You're still fighting."

"Keep fighting."

A contraction hit without warning. I screamed. How long have I been unconscious? Minutes? Hours? I don't know.

The contraction was at its peak. Worse than before.

The airbag had hit my belly too hard. Something was wrong, I could feel it.

Through the cracked windshield, I saw trees and dense forest.

And beyond them, a barely visible marker. Blue Moon territory.

I'd almost made it.

"Help," I called out.

My voice was barely a whisper.

"Someone help me."

Only silence answered. Another contraction built, faster than the last.

Two minutes, maybe less.

"Stay in there," I begged the twins.

"Please stay there."

"Just a little longer."

The twins kicked in a frantic response.

They were coming whether I was ready or not.

I fumbled for my phone, found it on the passenger seat. The screen was shattered, but it lit up.

No signal, dead zone between territories.

"No, no, no." I pressed the buttons desperately.

"Come on."

"Please."

Nothing. I grabbed the door handle and pulled. The door didn't budge.

I tried again. Pulling with all my strength.

"Open!" I yanked harder.

"Please open!"

The metal groaned but held.

"Help!" I screamed. Louder this time.

"Someone help me!"

A sound like footsteps outside made me freeze. Crunching on gravel and broken glass.

Terror flooded through me. What if it were Joshua? Coming to finish what he'd started? Or Irene?

Through the shattered window, I saw a figure approaching. Tall, dark hair.

"Stay back!" I tried to sound threatening.

"I'm warning you..."

The figure crouched beside the driver's door. His gray eyes met mine through the broken glass. Not Joshua.

"Hold on," he said.

His voice was calm and steady.

"I've got you."

"Who are you?" My voice cracked.

"Val  Phils. Alpha of Blue Moon Pack."

He examined the jammed door.

"You're in my territory now."

"You're safe."

"Safe," I repeated. The word felt impossible.

"Can you move?" Val asked.

"The door's jammed."

"I can't get out."

"I'll get you out."

He stood.

"This is going to make noise. But

don't be scared."

He gripped the door handle and pulled. The metal shrieked and twisted.

With a final groan, the door tore free. Val tossed it aside like it weighed nothing.

"Alpha strength," I breathed.

"Comes in handy." He reached for me carefully.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Alisha. Alisha Davis."

"Alisha, I'm going to check you for injuries."

"Is that okay?"

I nodded.

His hands were gentle and professional. He checked my head, neck, and shoulders.

"My babies," I managed.

"Please check my babies first."

"I've got medical on the way."

"They'll check everything."

He pulled out his phone.

Spoke rapidly.

"Medical team to the east border, now."

"Female in active labor, vehicle collision, urgent extraction needed."

He looked back at me.

"How far apart are the contractions?"

"Two minutes. Maybe less."

His jaw tightened.

"Okay. We're going to get you to the medical facility."

"Can you hold on a little longer?"

"I don't have a choice."

"That's the spirit." He squeezed my hand.

"You're going to be okay. I promise."

Another contraction hit, I screamed. Gripped his hand hard enough to hurt. He didn't pull away.

"Breathe," he said.

"Just breathe through it."

"It hurts," I gasped.

"I know, but help is coming."

Sirens wailed in the distance and were getting closer.

"Almost here," Val said.

"Just hold on."

The contraction peaked. I felt pressure building.

"Something's wrong," I gasped.

"It feels different."

"Wrong."

"Different how?"

"Like they're coming."

"Now."

"Not yet." His voice was firm.

"We need you at the hospital first."

Vehicles screeched to a stop behind Val's truck. People rushed forward.

Blue Moon patrol medical personnel.

"About damn time," Val muttered.

A woman in scrubs appeared.

"I'm Dr. Raymond. Let's see what we're working with."

She pressed equipment against my belly.

Two distinct heartbeats filled the air.

"Baby A's heart rate elevated at one-sixty," Dr. Raymond reported.

"Baby B is stable at one-forty."

"What does that mean?" I asked desperately.

"Baby A is showing stress from the accident."

"We need to get you to the facility now."

Hands lifted me from the wreckage. Gentle but urgent.

They placed me on a stretcher. I grabbed Val's arm.

"Don't leave."

"Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said simply.

They loaded me into medical transport.

Val climbed beside me.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why would you help me?"

"You don't know me."

"You crashed trying to reach my territory," Val said quietly.

"That tells me you were desperate."

"Fleeing something."

He paused.

"I lost my mate five years ago."

"Cancer."

"I know what it's like when the people who should protect you can't."

His voice was gentle but sad.

"Or won't."

Another contraction hit.

"Ninety seconds since the last," Dr. Raymond said.

"She's in transition."

"We need to move."

"How far is the facility?" Val asked.

"Three minutes."

"Make it two."

The vehicle accelerated. I felt every bump and every turn.

"They're coming," I gasped.

"I can feel it."

"Not yet," Dr. Raymond said firmly.

"We're almost there."

"I can't hold them back..."

"Yes, you can." Val's voice was steady.

"You survived whatever you fled from."

"You survived the crash."

"You can survive two more minutes."

I focused on his voice, his calm presence.

The medical facility appeared ahead. It was glass and steel.

The vehicle screeched to a stop. Doors flew open.

More hands reached for me. They wheeled me inside at a run.

"Delivery room three!" someone called.

"NICU team on standby!" Dr. Raymond ordered.

"Premature twins, thirty-six weeks, one showing distress."

They burst through double doors.

Equipment everywhere. Monitors, lights.

A team in scrubs lifted me onto a bed. Someone cut away my dress.

Monitors pressed to my belly.

"Baby A is still at one-sixty," a nurse reported.

"Baby B is stable at one-forty."

Another contraction, this time it was different and stronger.

"I need to push," I gasped.

Dr. Raymond checked.

"She's fully dilated."

"We're delivering now."

"What about Baby A's distress?" someone asked.

"We don't have a choice anymore."

The room exploded into motion. People taking positions. Equipment rolling forward.

Val still held my hand.

"I should go," he said.

"No." I gripped harder.

"Please."

"I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone." His voice was firm.

"I'll stay."

"Okay, Alisha," Dr. Raymond said.

"On the next contraction, push."

The contraction built.

"Now," Dr. Raymond commanded.

"Push!"

I pushed. Pushed with everything I had left.

"Good! Again!"

I pushed again and again.

"Crowning!" someone called.

"Baby A is crowning!"

One more push.

Then suddenly, release.

A baby's cry filled the room.

Loud, angry, and alive.

"It's a boy," Dr. Raymond announced.

"Time of birth: 14:47."

Tears streamed down my face.

They placed him on my chest for one brief moment.

Mine, tiny but perfect.

Then they took him to the warming table.

"APGAR eight," someone called.

"Respiratory good."

"One more, Alisha," Dr. Raymond said gently.

"Can you do one more?"

I nodded.

Another contraction built.

I pushed.

This delivery was faster, easier, another cry. But quieter than the first.

"It's a girl," Dr. Raymond said.

"Time of birth: 14:52."

They placed her on my chest.

Smaller than her brother. But breathing. Her tiny hand curled against my skin.

"Hello," I whispered.

"I'm your mama."

"You're safe now."

I looked down at Alexander, nursing peacefully.

Through the doorway, I could see into the NICU observation area.

Both babies were there now.

Alexander in his bassinet.

Ella was in her incubator, the steady beep of monitors.

Proof they were alive, fighting like me.

"We're going to be okay," I whispered to Alexander.

"We're going to survive this."

An alarm shrieked from the NICU.

Dr. Raymond's voice over the intercom.

"All available staff to NICU bed three."

"Cardiac event."

"Baby B."

That was Ella, my daughter.

I tried to get out of bed.

The incision tore.

Pain exploded through my abdomen. I didn't care.

"Ella!" I screamed.

Val caught me before I fell.

"Let me go!"

"I need to get to her!"

Medical staff rushed past my door. The alarm kept shrieking.

That horrible, endless sound. Then suddenly, it stopped.

The silence was deafening, more terrifying than the alarm.

"No," I whispered.

"No, please."

Val's arms tightened around me.

"They're working on her," he said. But his voice was tight.

The silence stretched.

One second, two, three.

Why wasn't anyone coming to tell me anything?

Why had the alarm stopped?