DERRICK POV
I ripped open door after door like the building itself was trying to slow us down. The hospital lights burned white and indifferent, corridors yawning away in antiseptic sameness, and every second felt like molten metal sliding through my fingers. My lungs were flat with adrenaline. My hands shook. I didn’t think I’d ever run this fast in my life.
Dalton and I had trained for this. The pack’s ob-gyn had drilled breathing techniques into us, lectured us on positions and comfort measures, made us rehearse with dolls and rubber poppets on cold linoleum floors. We’d read every goddamn pamphlet, watched a dozen webinars, practiced counting contractions, learned how to cue a woman through a surge of fire.
But I’d never been remotely prepared for the way pain could move through the
