CHAPTER 43: THE POWER OF A MATE

“What?! Are you okay? What do you need?” he asks, panic creeping into his voice.

“Charlie,” I say, placing my hands on his shoulders. “First, take a deep breath. Good. Now, I need you to carry me to Doc.”

That snaps him out of his spiraling anxiety—he’s always better with a task. Carefully, he lifts me as I reach out to my mates through our link.

Dean, grab my go-bag and meet us at the hospital. Our little rascal is ready to meet us, I say, keeping my tone steady.

“Go-bag? What—” Jason starts before realization hits.

“Max, where are you? One of us needs to get you!” Luke rushes.

Don’t worry, Charlie’s got me. We’re almost at the hospital. We will met you there. Thank the stars we live next door.

“You better not be walking,” Dean growls.

I laugh weakly. Not a chance. Charlie wouldn’t let me, no matter how much I pleaded. He is carring me.

Within minutes, my mates storm into the hospital like a pack of wild wolves.

The looks on their faces when Doc tells them they need scrubs before entering? Priceless—especially when they hear me cry out in pain.

“Mi alma, we’re here,” Dean murmurs as he and Jason take one side of the bed, Luke and Zane on the other.

Dean guides me through each contraction while Jason and Luke grip my hands—though they have to trade off with Dean and Zane when I nearly crush their fingers.

“You’re doing amazing, mi alma. Just a few more pushes—we can see the head. You’re almost there,” Dean encourages.

His words keep me going when exhaustion threatens to take over.

“One more push!” they all cheer, and finally, after six grueling hours, our first baby—a perfect little boy—arrives.

As my mates surround him, a searing white-hot pain erupts inside me. My sight goes hazy and darkens. A raw scream tears from my throat as the most excruciating pain I’ve ever known consumes me.

“Alphas, you need to leave—now,” Doc orders sharply.

“Why is there so much blood?” Zane demands.

“There are complications. If we don’t act fast, we’ll lose her.”

The last thing I hear is a deafening roar before darkness swallows me.

When I wake, the room is dim, the steady beep of machines filling the silence. Every muscle aches like I’ve been trampled.

“The babies—” I rasp.

“Shh, mi alma, they’re right here,” Zane whispers, cradling a tiny pink bundle.

I turn my head to see Luke and Jason cooing over a blue-wrapped bundle.

“They’re both alright?”

“Perfectly healthy,” Jason says softly, joining me.

Zane and Jason carefully place them in my arms, and tears spill as I hold them close.

“Max—” Dean breathes in relief, rushing to my side. “You’re awake.”

“What happened?”

Doc enters just in time. “A severe hemorrhage compounded by anemia. You lost too much blood paired with your blood pressure plummeting. We had to act fast and I thought we were going to lose you.” He smiles gently. “But you’re stable now, and for that I am so very thankful. May I check your vitals?”

I nod, and my mates reluctantly retreat to the corner (though they refuse to leave entirely).

After the post partum exam, Doc confirms I can go home—though the babies need another day or two for observation.

The Alphas immediately bristle, low growls rumbling.

“Enough,” I snap, and they freeze. “Doc knows best. Not another sound.”

Chastened, they murmur, “Yes, ma’am.”

After Doc bowed and shut the door behind him, I waved them over.

They helped me sit up and gave me the babies to nurse.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry,” I said full of remorse.

“No, mi alma. We were out of line, we’re sorry,” Luke says, the others nodding.

Gazing down at my babies, I truly saw them for the first time. My daughter is my mirror image—my nose, my cheekbones, my hair. I can’t wait to see her eyes. The resemblance to Kelly overwhelmed me, and a tear escaped. It was as if I held her in my arms again.

My son, on the other hand, is a blend of my mates—Luke’s cheeks, Dean’s nose, Jason’s lips, and Zane’s face shape, with no hair in sight. Oddly enough, he also bears a resemblance to Asher.

They’re the most precious little things, melting my heart every time their tiny hands break free and reach for each other.

“So, have you guys picked any names yet?” I asked, curious about their choices.

“We have,” Dean answered, and then silence.

“Well?” I pressed impatiently, earning a few chuckles.

Luke rushed out, “Okay, we’ve got names for both, but you can change them if you want.”

I laughed. “You’re all acting like nervous teen asking a girl out. What’s our son’s name?”

Zane finally spoke up when the others hesitated. Now I was nervous—please, no old-fashioned names.

“We wanted to honor the children you lost,” he said. “Asher James and Kelly Marie. James was a mentor to all of us, and Marie is Amelia’s middle name. What do you think?”

Tears welled up. I was touched that they’d name them after my lost babies and their own guiding figures. “I love it,” I whispered. “Thank you. They would have, too.”

After they finished feeding, I kissed their heads, carefully detached them, and settled them together in the bassinet as they rached out and took eachothers hand. I know it’s not recommended, but with four fiercely protective fathers watching over them, I’m not worried.