The ambulance ride was a screaming, lurching nightmare. Every jolt of the vehicle was a fresh wave of agony for Sera as she watched the paramedics work frantically on Kaelen's still, broken body. The world outside was a meaningless blur of streaking lights. The only reality was the frantic beeping of the machines, the clipped, urgent jargon of the medical team, and the limp, burned hand she clutched in her own. Her whispered pleas "I'm sorry, I love you, please don't leave me" were a desperate, broken mantra lost in the chaos.
They arrived at the city's top private hospital in a controlled explosion of activity. The ambulance bay doors burst open, and Kaelen's stretcher was rushed out, a swarm of doctors and nurses descending. The last thing Sera saw was Kaelen's pale, unconscious face disappearing through the swinging doors of the Emergency Room before they slammed shut, leaving her utterly, terrifyingly alone in the sterile, silent hallway.
The first hour of the wait was a frantic, desperate prayer. Sera paced the cold, unforgiving floor of the waiting room, her Dress silk gown now torn and stained with soot and blood. She replayed Kaelen's promise I will always come back to you over and over in her mind, clinging to the words as if they were a life raft.
The second hour, the adrenaline crashed, leaving behind a hollow, desolate numbness. She sank into a hard plastic chair, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion and shock. She was just there, still, her eyes fixed on the ER doors, crying until there were no tears left to cry. Her mind was a cruel tormentor, replaying her own selfish, jealous actions at the gala on a loop, each memory another piece of proof that this was all her fault.
By the third hour, hope had withered into a cold, hard knot of dread in the pit of her stomach. Every time a doctor emerged to speak to another family, a jolt of terrified anticipation shot through her, followed by a crushing wave of despair when they passed her by. The clean, antiseptic smell of the hospital felt like it was suffocating her.
Finally, the doors swung open and a doctor, his face grim with exhaustion, walked directly towards her. It was Dr. Theron. Lilith must have called him.
"Sera," he said, his voice heavy. "She's alive. We've stabilized her."
A single, shuddering gasp of relief escaped her lips, the first breath she felt she had taken in hours. But the look on his face stopped any further hope from blooming.
"She is in critical condition," he continued, his professional tone barely masking a deep well of sadness. "The physical trauma is extensive multiple fractures, third degree burns, severe internal bruising from the debris impact. But… there's something else. The explosion, the fire… her neck and shoulder took a severe thermal shock." He paused, his kind eyes filled with a sorrow that terrified her. "Her scent glands are severely damaged."
The words didn't make sense. An Alpha's scent glands were the core of their being, the source of their presence, their power, their identity.
"The tissue was… badly burned," Dr. Theron explained, his voice gentle. "We took her into an emergency operation to try and stabilize it, to save what we could, but we can't guarantee that it will be back to its original state. Her scent, Sera… the unique pheromones that make her Kaelen… it may never be the same. It may be gone entirely."
When they finally moved Kaelen to a private ICU room, Sera understood the true horror of what the doctor had said. She was on oxygen, a clear mask fogging with each shallow breath. Her body was mostly covered in white bandages, her torso and shoulder wrapped tightly. One of her arms and one of her feet were encased in heavy casts, elevated on pillows. The visible skin on her neck and other arm was an angry, raw red, the clear sign of burns. She was a broken statue, a shattered warrior, so still and silent it was impossible to believe she was the same powerful Alpha who had held her just last night. The air in the room was sterile, clean, and horribly, unnervingly neutral. The comforting, ever present scent of peach was gone.
Sera couldn't help but to cry again, silent, desperate tears for the woman who had sacrificed everything for her and her daughter. She pulled a chair to the bedside and took Kaelen's uninjured hand, beginning a vigil she would not abandon.
Two days passed in a blur of beeping machines and whispered, one sided conversations. Sera did not leave. She did not eat. She did not sleep. Lilith visited with Iris, who brought a crayon drawing of the three of them as superheroes.
"Seraphina, you look like a ghost," Lilith said, her voice a mixture of concern and exasperation. "You have to at least eat something. You're no good to her, or to Iris, like this."
Iris tried to comfort her mom, holding up a small cookie from the hospital cafeteria. "Mom, you should eat. Auntie Kae is just sleeping a lot because she's the best monster fighter and she got tired."
But Sera refused to be out of sight of Kaelen, gently shaking her head, her eyes never leaving Kaelen's still, bandaged form. Defeated, Lilith took Iris to get a proper meal, leaving Sera alone once more in the scentless silence.
It was two hours after Lilith and Iris had left. The room was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the floor. Sera was holding Kaelen's hand, her thumb stroking the back of it, her voice a low, tired murmur as she recounted a story about Iris's day.
And then she felt it.
A faint pressure against her palm. She stopped talking, her heart leaping into her throat. She stared down at their joined hands, hardly daring to breathe. It happened again. A weak, barely perceptible twitch.
She saw Kaelen's fingers move, a faint, ghostly curl against her own.
Hope, fierce, blinding, and utterly overwhelming, surged through Sera for the first time in two days. "Kaelen?" she whispered, her voice breaking as tears, this time of desperate, joyous hope, began to fall. "Kaelen, can you hear me?"