Chapter 16 Knox
— · —
Knox
“Hey, man,” Hunt said as he entered the room quietly.
It was odd, how people behaved around Lina.
Some talked to her, carrying on full conversations as if she could respond at any moment.
Sarah did that. She’d sit by the bed for hours, telling Lina about the baby, about the twins, about everything happening in the pack.
Noah did it too, updating her on council matters and pack gossip, keeping his tone light even when his eyes were red.
Others kept quiet, tiptoeing around the room so they wouldn’t disturb her. My father was guilty of that. He’d stand by the door, staring at her still form with an expression that was awkward and stiff. He never knew what to say, so he said nothing at all.
Some couldn’t stand to look at her. Vivi had broken down crying the first time she visited, and she hadn’t been back since.
She was already having such a hard time with Mika being in the hospital, and seeing Lina like this must have broken her completely.
I didn’t blame her. I’d sent extra guards to check on her and the other employees, help them in whatever way they were able since they couldn’t be here themselves.
And then there were the ones who acted as if she wasn’t even there. Who walked into the room and looked right through her, focusing their attention on me instead.
Like fucking Isabella.
She’d shown up three days after Lina was admitted. I’d been sitting in this same chair, holding Lina’s hand, when the door opened and I caught a whiff of that cloying perfume she always wore.
“Knox,” she’d said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
She’d walked toward me, her hand reaching out to touch my shoulder, her eyes never once landing on my mate lying unconscious in the bed.
I’d stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor.
“Get out.”
“What?” She’d blinked at me, all innocent confusion. “Knox, I just want to help-”
“I said get out. Now.”
“But I-”
“If you take one more step into this room, Isabella, I will have you escorted off pack territory and banned from ever returning.” My voice had come out as a growl, barely human. “My mate is fighting for her life and you don’t even have the decency to look at her. Get. Out.”
She’d fled, her heels clicking rapidly down the hallway. My mother had found me an hour later, confused.
“Knox, why would you treat Isabella that way? She’s been your friend since childhood. She was just trying to be supportive.”
I hadn’t had it in me to explain. Hadn’t had the energy to tell her about all the times Isabella had invaded my space, touched me without permission, looked at Lina with barely concealed hatred.
My mother wouldn’t understand. She saw what Isabella wanted her to see: a sweet, concerned family friend.
So I’d just shaken my head and told her I didn’t want to see Isabella again. Period.
My mother hadn’t pushed. Maybe she’d seen the look in my eyes and realized this wasn’t up for debate.
That had been weeks ago. Almost a month, actually.
A month. Fuck.
My way of coping with Lina’s absence was to stay by her side. I hadn’t left this room for more than ten minutes since she was brought in. Bathroom breaks. Quick showers in the attached bathroom. That was it. Everything else could wait.
One month since my daughter was born. One month since Lina had been put into a coma that was only supposed to last a few days. A few days turned into a week. A week turned into two. Two weeks turned into four.
And here I was. Waiting. Hoping. Fucking dying inside.
I wasn’t sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lina’s heart monitor flatlining. Heard that long, continuous beep that still haunted my nightmares. So I stayed awake, watching her breathe, counting the rise and fall of her chest, making sure she was still there.
I wasn’t eating. Food tasted like ash. Hunt brought me meals three times a day and I forced down a few bites to keep him from worrying, but that was it. My body was running on coffee and desperation.
I was barely living. Just existing. Going through the motions of being a person while my soul stayed tethered to the woman in that bed.
The only time I got a fucking grip on myself was when my kids came in.
They visited every day, brought by Sarah or my parents.
And every time that door opened and I heard their little voices calling for me, I forced myself to be better.
To be the father they needed. I hated that they saw me disheveled and depressed, so I put on a brave face.
Smiled. Pulled them into my lap and told them Mama was just sleeping, that she’d wake up soon, that everything was going to be okay.
I didn’t know if I believed it anymore. But I’d be damned if I let my children see me fall apart.
Sarah and my parents had become a rock for our family.
I’d be forever grateful to them. They’d taken over everything, the twins, the household, the million little details that I couldn’t handle right now.
My mother, who I’d never seen cook in her life, had apparently learned how to make the twins’ favorite meals.
My father read them bedtime stories. Sarah held everything together with the quiet strength she’d always had.
And the baby. Our daughter, still unnamed because I couldn’t do it without Lina, was officially out of the NICU. She’d spent two weeks in there, growing stronger every day, fighting with the same stubbornness her mother had. Now she was home, and Sarah had taken over her care.
I helped when I could. Dr. Hartley had recommended pumping milk from Lina to prevent engorgement and mastitis, and to make sure she’d be able to breastfeed when she woke up.
So I learned how to do it. Sat by my unconscious mate and helped extract milk from her body, storing it for our daughter, maintaining Lina’s supply for a future I had to believe would come.
Dr. Hartley said it was fine since Lina wasn’t on any medication. Her body was healthy. Healed. There was no medical reason for her to still be unconscious.
That was what scared me most. The doctors couldn’t explain it. Lina should have woken up weeks ago. All her vitals were stable. Her brain activity was normal. Everything pointed to a full recovery.
But she wouldn’t open her eyes.
“Earth to Knox.”
Hunt’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I blinked and found him standing in front of me, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
“What?” I grunted.
“You zoned out for a good two minutes there. Just wanted to check on you.” He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me. “And to give you the weekly debrief.”
Right. I was still the Alpha. The pack still needed me, even if I couldn’t bring myself to leave this room. Noah had been handling most of it, with Hunt acting as the go-between, keeping me informed on everything happening outside these four walls.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Hunt pulled out his phone, scrolling through notes. “Noah wanted me to tell you that the council’s patience is running thin. They want you back at the helm, or they want Noah to officially step into the Alpha position until you’re ready.”
Not a bad idea, really. Noah would make a good Alpha. He already was one, in every way that mattered. Maybe I should just let him take over. Let myself focus entirely on Lina and the kids without the weight of the pack on my shoulders.
But that felt like giving up. And I wasn’t ready to give up on anything yet.
“Tell them I’ll think about it,” I said.
Hunt nodded and continued. “No other issues in Pine Valley. The shop is running smoothly. Mika is progressing rapidly. She’s been asking to be discharged so she can come visit Lina.”
That made me smile, just a little. Mika had nearly died protecting my mate’s legacy. She was tough as nails and apparently too stubborn to stay in a hospital bed any longer than necessary.
“Lina will be happy to hear that,” I said. “When she wakes up.”
“When she wakes up,” Hunt agreed.
“What else?”
“No threats have showed up. Anywhere. It’s been quiet.”
Of fucking course. I’d been running a tight ship since Lina was admitted.
Guards stationed around the hospital. Guards at my parents’ house where the twins were staying.
Guards at Sarah’s place. Guards everywhere.
The rotation schedules were airtight, never the same pattern twice, never any predictable gaps.
I’d made damn sure that whoever was targeting my family wouldn’t find an opening.
I wouldn’t be able to sit here if I thought my kids were at risk. The only reason I could focus on Lina was because I knew everyone else was protected.
“Cole?” I asked.
Hunt’s expression shifted. “He’s in a human town nearby. Ridgemont, I think. Checking to see if Mary passed through there.”
“And?”
“Nothing. No one’s seen her. No one’s heard of her. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”
“The private investigator?”
“Same story. Dead end after dead end. He can’t find a trace of her anywhere.”
“What about the girl from the police sketch?”
“Also nothing. The PI looked into it, the police looked into it, we all looked into it.” Hunt paused, watching my expression. “Any luck on your end? You said her face looked familiar.”
I clenched my jaw, frustration building in my chest. I’d been staring at that damn sketch for weeks, trying to place where I’d seen her before. Because I had seen her. I knew I had. The shape of her face, the way her features were arranged, it all tugged at my memory in a way I couldn’t explain.
But I couldn’t remember where. Couldn’t remember when. It was like the memory was right there, just out of reach, and no matter how hard I tried to grasp it, it slipped away.
“Nothing,” I admitted, rubbing my eyes. “It’s driving me crazy. I know I’ve seen her before. I just can’t fucking remember where.”
“Maybe it’ll come to you.”
“Maybe.” But I doubted it. I’d been trying for weeks with zero luck. Fuck.
“There is one thing,” Hunt said. “I sent the drawing to a few different packs. Figured maybe someone would recognize her. Haven’t heard back yet, but I’ll let you know if anything comes in.”
“Good thinking.” I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion weighing on me. “Thanks, Hunt. For everything.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” He stood up, tucking his phone away. “You need anything else?”
“No. I’m good.”
He nodded and headed for the door. But before he could open it, it swung inward, and two small bodies came barreling into the room.
“Daddy!”
“Papa!”
Rowan and Thea threw themselves at me, and I caught them both, pulling them into my arms. The weight of their little bodies, the smell of their hair, the sound of their excited chatter, it all washed over me and I felt myself come alive again. Just for a moment. Just while they were here.
“Hey, pups,” I said, kissing the tops of their heads. “How was your day?”
“Grandma made pancakes!” Thea announced. “With chocolate chips!”
“And Grandpa read us a story about dragons,” Rowan added. “But he did the voices wrong.”
“He tried,” I said, smiling despite everything. “That’s what matters.”
Hunt slipped out of the room, giving me a small wave as he went. The door closed softly behind him.
“Can we lay with Mama?” Thea asked, her voice going quiet as she looked at Lina’s still form on the bed.
“Of course, baby. Just be gentle, okay?”
I helped them climb onto the bed, one on each side of their mother. They curled up against her, careful not to disturb the IV line or the monitors. Thea rested her head on Lina’s arm. Rowan held her hand.
“Is Mama going to wake up today?” Rowan asked.
The question hit me in the chest, the same way it did every time he asked. Which was every single day.
“I don’t know, buddy,” I said honestly. “But we’re going to keep hoping, okay? And keep talking to her so she knows we’re here.”
“Okay.” Rowan snuggled closer to Lina. “I told her about school today. About how I got a gold star for reading.”
“She would be so proud of you.”
“I know.” His voice was small but certain. “She told me. In my dreams.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know if it was just a child’s imagination or if there was something more to it. All I knew was that I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe Lina was still there, reaching out to us, fighting to come back.
“Daddy, can you read to us?” Thea asked.
“What book?”
“The one about the princess and the wolf!”
Of course. Lina’s favorite story to read to them. I grabbed the worn paperback from the nightstand, the same copy Lina had used, and settled into my chair.
“Once upon a time,” I began, my voice rough, “in a kingdom far away, there lived a princess who was braver than any knight in the land...”
The twins listened with rapt attention, their small bodies pressed against their mother, their eyes fixed on me as I read. My heart ached and warmed at the same time, a contradiction I’d grown used to over the past month.
I loved these kids so much it hurt. They were the only reason I was standing, breathing, holding on.
But god, I missed their mother.
I missed her laugh. Her sarcasm. The way she rolled her eyes at me when I was being overprotective. The way she curled into me at night, her cold feet pressed against my legs. The way she looked at me with those brown eyes full of fire and love and exasperation.
I missed everything about her.
I finished the story and closed the book, looking at my children, who had fallen asleep against their mother. Rowan’s hand was clutching Lina’s. Thea had her face buried in Lina’s neck.
I reached out and brushed Lina’s hair from her face. Her skin was warm. Her chest rose and fell steadily. She looked peaceful.
“Come back to us, baby,” I whispered. “Please. I can’t do this without you.”
The monitors beeped steadily. The ventilator hummed. And Lina slept on.