Chapter 24 - Connor
Back and forth. Back and forth. Twenty steps one way, twenty steps the other.
The medical center hallway stretches out on either side of me, sterile and white and far too quiet.
Behind the closed door of examination room three, Fern is being looked over by one of the pack doctors.
I have no idea what’s wrong with her. I have no idea why she collapsed.
All I know is that one moment she was talking to me, smiling at me, telling me she was okay, and the next her eyes rolled back, and she went limp in my arms.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Luna observes as she approaches.
“I can’t just stand still. Not while she’s in there.”
“I can see that.” She takes up a position against the wall, watching me pace. “Any news yet?”
“No. They’ve been in there for twenty minutes. Nobody’s told me anything. Every time I try to go in, one of the nurses tells me I have to wait out here.”
“Skylar is thorough. She won’t come out until she knows exactly what she’s dealing with.”
I know that. Skylar has been the pack’s lead healer for years, and I’ve never known her to miss a diagnosis. But knowing doesn’t make the waiting any easier. Every second that ticks by feels like an hour. Every muffled sound from behind that door makes my heart slam against my ribs.
“I wanted to thank you,” I tell Luna as I pass her for the hundredth time. “For what you did back there. If you hadn’t stepped in when you did, Fern would be—”
I can’t finish the sentence. The words get stuck somewhere in my throat and refuse to come out. The image of that knife against Fern’s skin, the thin line of blood already forming, plays on a loop in my head every time I close my eyes.
“It’s my job,” Luna replies simply. “As the Alpha’s mate, protecting pack members is part of what I do. I’m just glad I got there in time.”
“How did you know? That something was wrong, I mean. Did someone call you?”
Luna shakes her head. “Nic and I sensed the corruption moving through town earlier today. We’ve been tracking it, trying to pinpoint its location.
The Cheslem magic leaves a signature, like a trail of rot wherever it goes.
When I felt it spike at the medical center, I knew something had gone wrong.
By the time I arrived, you’d already broken through the door. ”
“The golden light. That was your magic.”
She nods. “Cheslem corruption has a specific frequency. Once I identified it, I was able to use my power to temporarily freeze the host and force the darkness to recede. It gave Fern the opening she needed to get free.”
I stop pacing long enough to face her properly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. One second Robbie was ranting at the air, and the next he just… stopped. Like someone had hit a pause button.”
“The corruption was fighting me for control of him. It didn’t want to let Fern go.
But the thing about Cheslem magic is that it’s parasitic.
It needs a willing host to survive. Once I introduced enough of my own power into the equation, the darkness had to choose between holding onto Fern and protecting itself.
” Luna’s mouth curves into a grim smile. “Self-preservation won.”
“And Robbie? Where is he now?”
“Contained in one of the cells beneath pack headquarters. Nic has guards posted around the clock until we figure out how to purge the corruption from his system.” Luna pauses, and something moves across her face.
“It won’t be simple. The darkness had time to sink deep roots, and he was already troubled before it found him.
There might not be much of the original man left to save. ”
“How does someone even get corrupted like that? He’s human. I didn’t think Cheslem magic could affect humans.”
“It can’t, usually. But from what we’ve pieced together, it seems like Robbie stumbled across one of their patrols while he was camping in the woods near the eastern border.
They must have seen an opportunity. A human mind consumed by jealousy and obsession makes the perfect vessel for their darkness.
All they had to do was plant the seed and let his own emotions do the rest.”
The thought makes my stomach turn. Robbie was already dangerous before the corruption got its hooks into him. The magic just amplified what was already there, turning a possessive ex-boyfriend into something far worse.
“I don’t care what happens to him,” I admit. “I know I probably should. But right now, all I care about is Fern.”
“That’s understandable. She’s your mate.”
The word sends a jolt through my entire body. Mate. Fern is my mate. The lottery chose her for me, and despite every obstacle, despite every argument and misunderstanding and moment of doubt, we found our way to each other. She’s mine, and I’m hers, and nothing is ever going to change that.
I stop pacing.
“I need to see her.”
“The doctor hasn’t come out yet.”
“I don’t care. I can’t stand out here anymore. I need to know she’s okay. I need to see it for myself.”
Luna studies me for a moment, her gaze assessing. Then she steps aside and gestures toward the door. “Go. I’ll handle anyone who tries to stop you.”
I don’t wait for her to change her mind. Three long strides carry me to examination room three, and I shove the door open without bothering to knock.
Fern sits on the edge of the examination table, still wearing the clothes she had on this morning. A white bandage covers the cut on her throat, and the bruise on her cheek has deepened to an ugly purple, but otherwise she looks intact. Whole. Alive.
Skylar stands beside her with a tablet in her hands, and both women turn to look at me as I burst through the door.
“Is she okay?” I demand. “What’s wrong with her? Why did she pass out?”
Skylar and Fern exchange a glance. Then, to my complete confusion, they both smile.
“She’s perfectly fine,” Skylar assures me. “Better than fine, actually. It seems congratulations are in order.”
I stare at her. The word doesn’t compute. “What? Congratulations for what?”
“You’re going to be a father, Connor.”
The words don’t make sense at first. They rattle around in my skull like loose stones, refusing to settle into any kind of meaning. Father. Congratulations. Father. I hear the individual syllables, but my brain can’t seem to string them together into anything coherent.
My gaze drops to Fern, searching for answers, and I watch as she lifts one hand and presses it gently against her stomach. Her fingers splay across the fabric of her shirt, protective and tender, cradling something I can’t see but suddenly understand.
“Fern?” My voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper. “Is that… Does that mean…”
“Can we have a moment alone?” Fern asks Skylar. “I think Connor and I need to talk.”
“Of course.” Skylar gathers her tablet and heads for the door, pausing just long enough to squeeze my shoulder as she passes. “Congratulations to both of you. I’ll be back in a little while to discuss next steps.”
Then she’s gone, and Fern and I are alone.
I cross the room slowly, my legs moving on autopilot while my brain struggles to catch up with what I’ve just been told. Fern watches me approach with her hand still resting on her stomach and her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Is it true?” I ask when I’m standing in front of her.
She nods, and a tear slips down her cheek. “I’m pregnant, Connor. I suspected a few days ago, but I didn’t know for sure until Skylar confirmed it just now. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t even sure if I believed it myself.”
Pregnant. Fern is pregnant. With my child. Our child.
The reality of it crashes over me all at once, and I have to grab the edge of the examination table to steady myself.
I think about the last few hours. The phone call from Nic.
The desperate race across town in wolf form.
Breaking through that door and seeing Robbie with a knife pressed to her throat.
The thin line of blood on her skin. The way she crumpled in my arms when it was over. How close I came to losing her.
How close I came to losing both of them.
“Connor? Say something. Please. You’re scaring me.”
I try to speak, but no words come out. Instead, I feel something warm and wet sliding down my cheeks.
Tears. I’m crying. Before meeting this woman, I can’t remember the last time I cried—maybe not since my mother died—but now I can’t seem to stop.
They just keep coming, spilling over and tracking down my face.
“I could have lost you,” I manage finally. “Both of you. Today, in that office, I could have lost everything.”
“But you didn’t.” Fern reaches up and cups my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away my tears with a gentleness that only makes me cry harder. “I’m here. We’re both here. And we’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m going to protect you.” The words pour out of me, fierce and desperate and more honest than anything I’ve ever said. “Both of you. I swear on my life, Fern. I will never let anything happen to either of you. Not ever again. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to do.”
She pulls me closer until our foreheads touch, and I breathe in the scent of her. “I know you will.”
“I mean it. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to sacrifice. You and this baby are everything to me now. Anyone who tries to hurt either of you will have to go through me first.”
“Connor, I know. I believe you. You don’t have to convince me.”
I close my eyes and let myself lean into her touch.
She smells like the medical center—antiseptic and clean sheets—but underneath that, I can still catch traces of her own scent.
Warm and sweet and distinctly Fern. And now, knowing what I know, I realize that the change I noticed in her scent over the past few weeks wasn’t my imagination.
It was this. A new life growing inside her. Our child.
“How far along?” I ask.
“Skylar thinks about five weeks. Maybe a little less. Apparently, shifter pregnancies progress faster than human ones, so the symptoms hit earlier and harder. That’s why I’ve been so sick lately. I thought it was stress, or maybe something I ate. I never even considered…”
Five weeks. I think back, counting the days, and realize that it lines up almost perfectly with our first night together. The night of our mating ceremony, out in the woods under the stars. The night everything changed between us.
“The baby,” I murmur, opening my eyes to look at her. “Is it… Will it be…”
“A shifter?” Fern finishes for me. “Skylar doesn’t know yet. It’s too early to tell. But she said there’s a good chance, given that you’re the father. Apparently, the shifter gene is dominant in most cases.”
A shifter baby. Half me, half her. The thought fills me with a kind of joy I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.
All my life, I’ve watched other pack members start families.
I’ve seen the pride in their eyes when their children take their first steps, speak their first words, complete their first shifts.
I always wondered if that would ever be in the cards for me. Now it’s happening. Now it’s real.
“I can’t believe this,” I whisper. “I can’t believe you’re really…”
“Believe it.” Fern smiles through her tears. “In about seven months, give or take, we’re going to be parents. Whether we’re ready or not.”
Seven months. That’s not a lot of time to prepare.
We’ll need to figure out living arrangements.
Baby supplies. A crib, clothes, diapers, all the things that new parents need.
We’ll need to tell the pack, tell Nic, figure out how this affects Fern’s work at the clinic.
My head spins just thinking about the logistics.
But underneath the panic, there’s something else. Something warm and steady that settles in my chest and refuses to leave. Happiness. Pure, uncomplicated happiness.
“Are you okay with this?” Fern asks with a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice. “I know we never really talked about having kids. I know this wasn’t planned. If you’re not ready, or if you need time to process—”
I silence her with a kiss.
It’s not a long kiss or a particularly passionate one. Just a firm press of my lips against hers, trying to pour everything I can’t put into words into the contact. When I pull back, Fern looks dazed.
“I want this,” I tell her. “I want you. I want this baby. I want everything, Fern. All of it. Whatever our future holds, I want to face it together.”
Her lower lip trembles. “Really?”
“Really.” I take her hands in mine and hold them tight. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I pushed too hard and moved too fast and probably scared you half to death more than once. But I swear to you, I’m going to do better. For you and for our child. I’m going to be the man you both deserve.”
Fern pulls one hand free and places it against my cheek. Her touch is soft, grounding, and I lean into it just like I did back in her office when she told me she was safe.
“You already are. You just don’t see it yet.”
Before I can respond, she leans up and kisses me again.
This time, I let myself sink into it. I wrap my arms around her carefully, mindful now of what she’s carrying, and pull her as close as I dare.
Her fingers thread through my hair, and I feel some of the fear and guilt and panic of the past few hours start to melt away, replaced by something warmer. Something that feels a lot like hope.
When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing harder than before.
“Luna is still waiting in the hallway,” she reminds me. “And I’m sure the whole pack is wondering what happened.”
“They can wait.” I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “Right now, I just want to be here with you.”
“The three of us,” Fern corrects.
I place my hand over hers, where it still rests against her stomach, and I feel something settle into place inside my chest. A sense of rightness. A sense of purpose.
“The three of us,” I repeat, and the words feel like the most important promise of my lifetime.