Page 61 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“I’ll tell you everything in a few days.” I hold her eyes. “Right now I need you to trust me, the same as you did an hour ago. You trusted me then instead of running her to that hospital. If you hadn’t—” I let the silence sink in. “She’d be dead, Jessa.”

The color drains clean out of her face.

“Trust me one more time.” I keep my voice even. “You and Mia come to my house until she’s well. That’s all I’m asking.”

She looks down at her daughter, pale still but breathing easily, then back up at me. Every part of her wants to refuse, and I watch her lose the argument with herself.

“It’s what’s best for her,” I murmur.

A long breath goes out of her. “Fine.” Her jaw is set hard. “We do this for a few days. The second she’s well, we go home, and that’s the end of it.”

“That’s fine,” I agree. If you’ll even want to at that point.

She turns back to the cot and takes the small hand into hers again. I stand in the doorway, my daughter asleep on a cot, her mother bent over her. They’re mine, both of them.

And I’m keeping them.

Chapter Thirteen

Marcus

Jessa doesn’t say a word the whole drive to her building.

She goes up alone, comes back down in under ten minutes with a duffel slung over one shoulder, and slides into the back beside Mia without a word to me. In the mirror, I watch her arrange the girl’s head against her own arm, smooth a thumb over her forehead, and check the rise of her chest. She doesn’t look at the road once.

“When will she wake up?” she asks, somewhere past the second light.

“A day, maybe less.” I keep my eyes forward, aware of Bella dozing in the front seat beside me. “She will wake up, Jessa. I promise you that.”

She rests her head against the window and crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “We should never have come here.” It’s barely loud enough to reach me. “Everything keeps going wrong.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it.” My hands tighten on the wheel. “There’s no reason for you to regret coming here. Mia is so happy. How can you not see that?”

“Someone tried to kill her, Marcus,” she snaps. “How can you not see that?”

I look at her through the rearview window, and she looks back down at Mia before turning her attention to the passing scenery outside.

“I want to go to the police.” She says it to the glass. “A real report. Detectives, the whole thing.”

“The police won’t find him.” I turn off toward the outskirts. “My people are wider than any precinct and faster.”

“Your people?” she asks sharply.

“Jessa,” I murmur, “I know you’re upset and angry. So am I. But the police are useless. Wolfsbane is an herb that is close to extinct. You don’t have proof. You have nothing, just an unconscious child. They’ll blame you. If you file a report, they will need somebody to blame, and that will be you.”

Her face pales, and I hate scaring her like this.

“Just trust me. I’ll dig up the bastard responsible for this, and he’s going to regret even looking at our children.”

Her breath hitches, and I catch her stroking Mia’s hair.

We drive in silence, and then she asks, “Those people, back at that place.” She frowns at the trees. “What are they? They weren’t nurses.”

“Herbalists.” I keep my voice even. “Doctors keep vaccines, antidotes, the things that come in a vial. Not everything has a vial. Some poisons only answer to people who know the green side of it, the roots and the rest. They’re closer to that than any hospital.”

She gives me a look that says she’s not sure she buys my story but she’s too worn down to pick at it, and she drops the question. Good.

The house comes up dark except for the porch lamp.