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“Damian.” I use the name his mother used. “They need to help her. You being here won’t make that go faster.”

His jaw tightens. For a moment I think he’s going to refuse. Then his gaze drops to his sister, still sleeping against my neck, and something in his small face softens. He nods.

I carry them to the waiting area across the hall. The chairs are too big for them. I sit on the floor instead, cross legged, the girl still against my chest, the boy beside me with his knees drawn up.

“How old are you?” I ask him.

“Six.” His voice is rough. He clears his throat. “Almost.”

“And your sister?”

“Darlene’s four.” He glances at the door. “Is Momma going to die?”

“No.” I say it before the question finishes. “No, she’s not going to die. Healer Thomas is the best in three territories. He’s going to fix her.”

He nods again, but his shoulders don’t relax.

Across the hall, I can hear Thomas’s voice , low, steady, giving instructions I can’t quite make out. The sound of metal on metal. A wet sound that makes my stomach turn. Then silence. Long silence.

Too long.

I’m about to stand when Thomas appears in the doorway. His gloves are off. His hands are clean. He’s holding a small glass vial of something that catches the light , pale, almost silver, shimmering.

“Luna. A word?”

I ease the girl onto the chair, tuck my cardigan around her, and follow him to the far end of the corridor.

“She’s pregnant,” he says. No preamble. No softening. “About six weeks. That’s why she wasn’t healing.”

I blink. “The wolf...”

“Redirected everything. The pup was taking priority.” He holds up the vial. Moon Essence. I recognize the glow , I’ve used it twice myself, after the worst of what Ronan did. “The branch shattered when Marcus pulled it. Fragments were still in the wound. I’ve cleaned it. But without the wolf’s cooperation, the tissue won’t regenerate fast enough to stop the bleeding.”

“And the Moon Essence?”

“Accelerates the healing process externally. Gives the wolf enough of a boost to do both , heal the mother and protect the pup.” He uncorks the vial. The scent hits me , ozone and something sweeter, something that reminds me of the waterfall. “She’ll be fine. Both of them.”

“Both of them,” I repeat.

He nods. Something in his face softens , the first crack in the professional mask. “The pup’s strong. I can feel it already. Strong bloodline.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My knees go weak for half a second, and I press my palm flat against the wall.

“Thank you, Thomas.”

He turns back toward the room. Pauses. “The pups?”

“I’ll handle them.”

He disappears through the door. I stand there for a moment, my forehead against the cool wall, and let the relief move through me like weather.

When I come back to the waiting area, Damian is standing. He’s positioned himself between the chair where his sister sleeps and the door to his mother’s room, his small body rigid with purpose.

“She’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “Both of them are going to be okay.”

His eyes search my face. Whatever he finds there makes his shoulders drop an inch.

“Come on.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s get you two cleaned up before your mom wakes up. She’s going to want to see you looking like yourselves, not like you’ve been dragged through the forest.”