Chapter 17
Elliot
As consciousness slowly returned, I found myself lying on my back, staring up at a stark white ceiling. The scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, and the hum of machinery surrounded me. Where was I? And why couldn't I feel… anything below my waist? What was going on?
I turned my head stiffly, looking around the strange room. It wasn't a hospital; there were no sterile beds or white coats in sight. Instead, it appeared to be some kind of makeshift infirmary, filled with medical equipment and supplies haphazardly strewn about. IV stands stood sentinel next to my bed, dripping a steady stream of fluid into my veins. Monitors beeped softly, tracking my vital signs—vital signs that seemed eerily stable considering the chaos from earlier.
"Damon?" I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy. "Where are you?"
I hoped he was okay. Otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do.
No response came, save for the soft hum of machines. Panic began to rise inside me as I realized I was alone—completely and utterly alone—in this cold, antiseptic room.
I had been alone before, but it was never anything like this.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice stronger this time. Still nothing. I don't know why I expected anything different.
I tried to sit up, wincing at the sudden burst of pain in my abdomen. My hand flew to my stomach, only to encounter smooth skin instead of the familiar bulge of pregnancy. Confusion gave way to a cold dread as I lifted the sheet covering me, revealing a long, angry scar running vertically down my torso.
"What the--" I gasped, horror washing over me as the truth sank in. They had cut me open. To save Stellan.
But where was he? Was he safe? Alive?
Tears stung my eyes as fear gripped me, threatening to consume me whole. I needed answers. I needed Damon, and I needed him right in that moment.
With renewed determination, I ignored the protest of my body and swung my legs over the side of the bed. A wave of dizziness hit me, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it, using the edge of the mattress to pull myself upright. I also removed any and all tubes going into me.
The room spun briefly before settling into focus once more. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. I had to find Damon. I had to find my son.
Each step felt like walking on knives, but I refused to let it slow me down. I stumbled out of the makeshift infirmary, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway beyond. Doors lined either side, all closed tight. Which one led to Damon—and hopefully, Stellan too?
I hoped they were together, no matter what had happened.
As I hesitated, trying to decide which door to try first, a low moan echoed through the hall. It sounded like someone in agony. Or pleasure. Either way, it was clear that whoever made that sound was suffering greatly.
Without hesitation, I limped towards the source, pushing open the nearest door. Inside, I found a figure strapped to a chair, their face contorted in pain, sweat pouring down their forehead. They looked vaguely familiar, but my mind was too foggy to place them.
"Who are you?" I asked, approaching cautiously. "Do you know where Damon Vexley is?"
The figure struggled to speak, their lips curling back in a grimace. "El… Elliot," they rasped, recognition flickering in their eyes. "You shouldn't… You need to rest."
It was Hunter—the enforcer who'd barged in earlier. He looked terrible, his usually spiky hair matted and damp, his green eyes wild with pain.
"No," I insisted, shaking my head. "I need to find Damon. Do you know where he is?"
I really couldn't care much about him in that moment.
Hunter nodded weakly, pointing towards the end of the hallway. "Basement… lab... He's there." His voice trailed off, his head lolling forward as another spasm of pain racked his body.
Whatever was happening to him, it didn't look good. But I couldn't worry about that—not when Damon and Stellan might still be in danger. They were my priorities in that moment.
Ignoring the throbbing ache in my belly, I hurried towards the basement stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Each step sent jolts of pain shooting through me, but I gritted my teeth and pressed on, determined to see this through.
At last, I reached the heavy metal door leading to the basement. With a trembling hand, I grasped the handle and pulled, revealing a dimly lit laboratory filled with strange equipment and glowing vials. In the center of the room, Damon stood over a small table, cradling something precious close to his chest.
"Damon!" I cried out, relief flooding through me at the sight of him.
He turned to face me, his ice-blue eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and guilt. In his arms, swaddled tightly, lay our son—Stellan. He was tiny, fragile, yet perfect in every way.
"He's alive," Damon murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We made it, love. We're both okay now."
I staggered towards him, tears streaming down my cheeks, and collapsed into his embrace. As we held each other tightly, I finally allowed myself to believe that everything would be alright—that somehow, we would get through this together.
But even as I clung to him, questions remained unanswered. What had happened while I was unconscious? How had they saved Stellan? And why did Hunter seem to be in so much pain?
As if reading my thoughts, Damon pulled away slightly, his expression serious. "Elliot, there's something you should know. Something important."
His tone sent a shiver of unease down my spine. Whatever it was, I knew it wouldn't be easy to hear.
"Elliot," Damon began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down at me, those eyes filled with a mix of relief and fear. "You passed out earlier. During your… delivery."
I swallowed hard, my throat still dry and scratchy. I figured that was what had happened, but it still felt weird hearing him say it.
Despite the fear gnawing at me, I needed answers. "Stellan?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Is he—"
"He's alive," Damon cut in, his face breaking into a weak smile. "He's perfect, love. Beautiful." His gaze drifted towards the small bundle cradled in his arm, a warmth filling his eyes as he looked upon our son. Then, his expression turned serious once more, his brows furrowing. "But there were complications. With the birth…"
I felt a chill run through me. Complications? What kind of complications? I needed to know everything.
"The doctor said…" Damon hesitated, searching for the right words. "The placenta didn't detach properly. They had to perform an emergency cesarean section." Not to mention all the pain I'd felt before passing out.
My hand flew to my belly, feeling the long scar hidden beneath the sheet. So that was why Hunter had mentioned someone cutting open my belly. It all made sense now.
"And Stellan?" I pressed, my heart pounding in my chest. "Was he injured?"
"No," Damon replied quickly, shaking his head. "No, he's fine. Healthy. Strong." He glanced down at our son again, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "They managed to extract him safely. It was touch-and-go for a while, but… he pulled through."
Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me lightheaded. Our son was safe. That was all that mattered.
In a way, I was kind of glad that I passed out before giving birth. I wouldn't have been able to handle the situation well.
"Then why do you look so worried?" I asked, studying Damon's tense features. Something was still bothering him, I could tell.
Damon sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. "Because of what happened next. Marcus radioed in—the Serpents attacked before we could reach the hospital. An electromagnetic pulse took out all our electronics—including the monitoring equipment in the ambulance."
I gasped, horror filling me. "So, they couldn't monitor us? Or… or treat us?"
"Not until they got us here," Damon confirmed, nodding towards the makeshift infirmary. "We had to find somewhere else to bring you both. Somewhere safe from the fighting—and equipped enough to deal with your condition."
"And where exactly is 'here'?" I inquired, looking around the dimly lit room. "It doesn't seem like a standard hospital."
"It's not," Damon admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "It's one of our pack's secure facilities—a place used for… sensitive operations."
"Sensitive operations?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Before Damon could answer, a low moan echoed through the hallway outside. Both of us turned to see Hunter limping towards us, his face contorted in agony. I was surprised he could still walk.
"What's wrong with him?" I whispered, concern etched onto my face.
Damon's jaw tightened, anger flashing across his features. "That's part of the reason I'm worried, Elliot. Those 'sensitive operations' involve experiments on shifters—like Hunter. We've been trying to reverse some of the effects caused by past research gone wrong."
I stared at him, shock coursing through me. Experiments? On their own people? The thought was horrifying.
"But… why would you do something like that?" I stammered, struggling to comprehend such cruel actions.
But maybe there was nothing to understand. People could be evil sometimes, especially when they had something to gain.
Damon's expression darkened further. "For power, Elliot. Control. And unfortunately, progress sometimes comes at a cost."
I shook my head, disgust rising within me. This wasn't the Damon I knew—that much was clear. But then again, neither of us truly knew each other anymore, did we?
"And what about Hunter?" I prompted, steering the conversation back to the immediate problem. "What's happening to him?"
Damon sighed, rubbing his temples. "A side effect of one of the experiments caused some sort of toxic reaction when he shifted. We're trying to stabilize it, but… things aren't looking good."
Another groan escaped Hunter's lips as he collapsed against the doorframe, his body wracked with pain.
"We need to help him!" I exclaimed, attempting to run to him despite the protest of my abdomen.
Damon gently pushed me back down, his expression firm. "Stay put, Elliot. You're in no state to be moving around. Besides, I can handle this."
As if on cue, Hunter let out another cry of agony, followed by a sickening wet sound. Damon rushed forward, catching him just as his legs gave out completely.
"Fuck," Damon muttered, supporting Hunter's weight effortlessly. "You okay, soldier?"
Hunter nodded weakly, clinging to Damon. "Y-yes, sir. Just… just a little dizzy."
Damon's brow furrowed as he examined Hunter closely. Whatever he saw, it clearly concerned him.
"This isn't normal, Elliot," he murmured, turning back to me. "His symptoms… they're getting worse. Fast."
He didn't even have to tell me that. It was pretty obvious what was happening to Hunter.
Fear gripped me as I realized the true extent of our situation. Not only were we trapped in a secret facility during a dangerous attack, but now, one of our protectors was falling apart before our very eyes.
"I don't understand," I confessed, confusion warring with fear inside me. "Why are these things happening? Why now?"
Damon's gaze hardened, determination flickering within those ice-blue depths. "Because fate has a fucked-up sense of humor, Elliot. And she's decided to test us today—to push us to our limits and beyond."
He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But I have faith—in myself, in you, and most importantly, in us. We can figure this out. We'll save Hunter, protect our home, and raise our son."