Kael's POV
"Lyra—"
Her name finally tore out of my burning throat. But she didn't stop. She clutched the boy tight to her chest, hurrying off with him.
"Lyra!" I yelled again, and jolts of pain exploded up my veins.
The monitor beside the bed erupted into a violent series of shrill beeps, drowning my screams.
"Sir, you need to lie down!" a nurse cried.
But how could I lie down when Lyra just left again, after three years of painstakingly searching for her? How could I lie down after seeing her with a son I never knew I had?
The boy was undoubtedly mine. His hair was just as dark as mine, his eyes as grey as mine, and he looked just like I did when I was a kid. He was mine—my son.
I thought of all that she must have gone through carrying our child and raising him alone for three years, and guilt burrowed harder into my gut.
Damn it! How could I have ruined everything so badly like this? I clawed hard at the hospital bed, muttering strings of obscenities to myself.
I bet Draziel must be rolling in his grave now, cursing me endlessly, for impregnating his daughter, then sending her into the street to fend for herself and her baby.
I needed her to listen to me and come back. I had sworn to protect and care for her, and I will.
"Lyra—" I rasped, trying to swing myself off the bed, until waves of waves of agony forced me back to the bed, pressing down on me like an invisible mountain.
Strong hands grabbed my shoulders.
"Sir, stop! You just came out of surgery!"
"Your vitals are spiking!" another nurse said urgently.
The machine screamed louder. My vision blurred. Every second that I struggled to get up felt like lightning was shooting through my body. Yet, I did not give up.
I had already lost three years. I would not lose her again.
The nurses grabbed my arms each, pinning me to the bed. Ordinarily, it would have taken dozens of them to do that, but they were well assisted by the pain that reduced me to a jelly from the inside.
"Get the doctor," the first nurse yelled urgently to another nurse who had just entered the room, "His heart rate is out of control."
I kept struggling against their grip, but my strength kept betraying me, my vision blurring.
More footsteps rushed into the room until a doctor and a crew of nurses fanned around my bed.
The doctor's expression hardened when he found me struggling against the nurses. "Hold him."
I read the resolve in the hardness of his jaw, and fury exploded through me. How dare he even think of sedating me?
Before I could react, more hands pushed down on my arms from both sides, pinning me harder to the bed, and then a sharp sting pierced my arm.
Instantly, the room blurred, everything fading fast to black, darkness slowly creeping in, until finally, it swallowed me whole.
I don't know how long it took, hours, days, or even weeks, but eventually, my eyes finally snapped open.
For a moment, my mind was a blank slate. And then in a brutal, hurting wave, everything crashed down against my mind.
I remembered the accident I had, remembered I had found Lyra, and found her with our boy, our son.
I remembered everything, just like I remembered that I needed to get to her before she disappeared again.
Without thinking, I swung my legs off the bed.
This time, the pain hit harder, tearing down my nerves. My body screamed in protest as I slowly forced myself upright, my legs trembling violently beneath me. I could barely stand.
"Damn it," I grunted. I threw my weight against the wall for support.
The room was quiet now, dimly lit by the soft glow of evening lights filtering through the window. Other than the light, I had no company, no nurses and doctors to stop me and sedate me.
Good.
Once I got a manageable grip on my legs, I reached for the IV pole beside the bed and used it to steady myself.
Each step felt like walking through broken glass. But I walked anyway, and I stepped into the hallway.
The hospital corridor stretched endlessly before me, in a blur of white walls.
Doctors and nurses, in coats and scrubs, and some patients, moved around, conversations echoing softly.
I moved towards my right, the IV stand groaning loudly against the ground as it took all my weight. Even with that, I could barely move a foot without my body roaring madly in protest.
But it would take more than that to stop me.
Eyes fell on me quickly at the loud IV pole, scratching the floor, and the doctors and nurses rushed forward.
"Sir! You shouldn't be out of bed!"
"Your stitches could reopen—"
The chorus of voices echoing around me only spiked up my irritation.
"Where is she?" I demanded, yelling over all the voices. Though my voice came out low, it was also raw and dangerous.
Great. I was getting back to my previous self. "Where is she, Lyra?" I demanded again.
But no one answered. Rather, they all dropped back, trading stares.
Fury simmered in my chest. "I know she works here," I said slowly. "Where is she?"
A nurse exchanged nervous glances with another.
"Sir, please return to your bed—"
My grip tightened on the IV pole. "I'm not asking again. Where--"
"Here I am. Alpha King Kael," she called from behind me. I turned slowly so I wouldn't fall, her voice echoing off a melody in my ears.
My chest lightened, a breath of relief echoing off me.
She was taller than she was three years ago, and just as beautiful, if not more. Her long chestnut hair was cut shorter, her posture straighter.
I stared right into her face. Her usually bright amber eyes were calm now and less hopeful than three years ago.
Pain shot through my body with every breath, but I forced myself forward, ignoring the dizziness threatening to drag me back to the floor.
"Lyra—" I breathed. I reached for her cheek the same way I used to when she was younger.
The moment my fingers brushed her skin, she recoiled, as if I had just burned her.
Guilt gnawed at me as I snatched my hand back to my side, meeting the bored, lazy look in her eyes, which was like a giant wall I couldn't pull down. "I am sorry, Lyra, for what happened three years ago."
"I know." She answered simply, "And it's great seeing you again, Alpha King." She sighed loudly. "Since we have shared pleasantries now, can you return to your room. You run the risk of reopening your wounds—" she glanced down at the growing red spot on my bandage.
"That doesn't matter," I grunted. I nudged my eyes wildly around her. "Where is he, Lyra. Where is our son?"
"I don't remember us having one, Kael." She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in a rather confrontative posture.
My lips parted quickly as if to argue. But I knew I had no right to. "I know you must still be angry about everything, but it was all a mistake, Tara was only playing around that day…" I dug into my jean pocket, and I brought out her phone, wincing softly at the sharp bolts of agony that raced up my arm at the action. "...I called you that day, Lyra, just a few minutes after you left, I texted, explaining everything, you just didn't get my explanations and my calls, that why. There was no reason for you to leave."
Her eyes flicked to the phone in my hand, which was more of a crumbled block of metal after the accident. For a second, I thought her eyes calmed, but it was gone, fast.
"The phone changes nothing, Kael," she finally sighed after a few moments of silence between us. "And please, just get right to what you want."
Her gaze dropped to the bloodied bandage around my abdomen. For a moment, I watched as concern flashed through the wall of coldness on her face. But it was quickly melted.
"You know what I want, Lyra. You know I want you and our son back to the Palace."
"First, we don't have a son, and secondly, I cannot return, Kael. I already have a life here."
"I am not asking you to leave it," I said, reaching to touch her again. She dropped another foot from me. "...I am just asking you to come back to the Palace and take back your position as my queen. You can still work here, still keep the life—"
I followed the gentle tug along the column of her throat. "You are forgetting I am no longer the little girl who used to run around after you, Kael. I have grown. I am a woman now, and I am capable of making my own decisions. So accept it when I say: I don't want to be queen again, nor do I want to return." She said, tone scathing, though she dressed it in faux politeness.
She tried to move past me, and I snatched her wrist, forcing her to stop. Her skin was soft against my hard, calloused ones; the tenderness and warmth beneath mine was like a balm to my soul. She turned her head to me slowly, the coldness in her eyes obvious now.
"Just let me go, Kael."
"I agree you are still angry about everything, and I know I did wrong and deserve your wrath, but can I at least see my son, can I—"
"You don't have a son with me, Kael."
"Just please, let me see him, Lyra. He deserves to know his father. And if you won't return to the Palace, can I get you a security detail? Draziel would curse me in his grave if you are far away from me and unprotected. I promised him—"
Her eyes suddenly darkened, and she jerked her wrist from my grip. That shot shot pain up my arm like a bullet.
"It's still never about me, Kael, but about my father, and about your promise to him. And please stay away from my child and me, we are not going to live our lives being the objects to relieve you of your guilt about my father." Now, more bitterness coated her words, and her eyes, more rage.
My jaw clenched so tight, it hurt. How did I fuck this up again?
I reached for her wrist quickly as she moved again. We both stopped, frozen to the spot, at the familiar voice that cried ahead.
"Kael," Tara cried ecstatically, clutching her purse tight, voice shrill from horror. She stood at the top of the crowd of nurses and doctors that had stood watching us.
Lyra glanced from Tara to me, her gaze tightening. "Goodbye, Kael." She said and resumed her walk down the corridor.