Luca's POV
Seven months pregnant, and the pain wakes me at 3 AM.
Sharp. Intense. Wrong.
"Rian!" I gasp, clutching my stomach.
He's awake instantly. "What's wrong?"
"Pain. Something's wrong—"
He's already lifting me, moving fast. "Hospital. Now."
The drive is a blur. Rian's terrified—I feel it through the bond—but staying calm for me.
"It's okay, baby. You're okay. He's okay." He keeps repeating it like a mantra.
At the hospital, they rush me to a room. Check vitals, ultrasound, everything.
"False labor," the doctor finally announces. "Common at seven months. Baby's fine."
Relief floods through both of us. Rian collapses into a chair, shaking.
"He's okay?" I ask, hand on my stomach.
"Perfectly fine. Strong heartbeat, active movement. You just need rest." The doctor smiles. "No more scares, please?"
After they leave, Rian climbs into bed with me carefully.
"Thought I was losing you both," he whispers, voice breaking.
"We're fine. Both of us." I take his hand, placing it where our son is kicking. "Feel? He's okay."
"I was so scared." He's crying, face buried in my neck. "So fucking scared."
"I know. Me too." I hold him close. "But we're okay. All of us."
We stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Rian never leaves my side, hand constantly on my bump.
"You need to rest too," I tell him.
"Can't. What if something happens—"
"Nothing will happen. Doctor said we're fine." I cup his face. "I need you strong. Not exhausted and panicked."
He takes a shaky breath. "Okay. But I'm not leaving."
"Didn't expect you to." I kiss him softly. "My overprotective Alpha."
"Your terrified Alpha," he corrects.
That night, he holds me carefully, our son kicking vigorously between us.
"He's really okay?" Rian asks for the tenth time.
"Really okay. Just testing our nerves early."
"Going to be trouble. Just like you."
"Just like us," I correct, smiling.
The next morning, cleared to go home, Rian is extra careful. Carries me to the car, drives painfully slow, hovers constantly.
"I'm fine now," I protest.
"You scared me. I'm allowed to hover." He helps me inside. "Doctor said rest. That means bed."
"For how long?"
"Until the baby's born. Maybe longer."
"Rian!"
"I'm serious. You're resting. I'll handle everything else."
I want to argue. But seeing the terror still in his eyes, I relent.
"Okay. I'll rest. For you. For our son."
"Thank you." He kisses me deeply. "Can't lose you, Luca. Either of you. You're my everything."
"We're not going anywhere." I pull him close. "Promise."
That night, wrapped safely in his arms, our son kicking steadily, the fear finally fades.
Two months until we meet him.
Two months of careful rest and overprotective Alpha.