Then it loosened.
Barely.
Enough.
“Hospital,” I whispered.
He did not answer.
He ran.
One second we were on the front steps of the packhouse, the cool night air hitting my damp skin, Ella and Owen framed in the doorway behind us.
The next, Greenwood blurred around us.
Trees.
Lights.
Gravel.
The path to the hospital.
My mate moved like a storm with legs, every muscle locked around the single purpose of getting me there. I buried my face against his chest and tried not to think about the fact that I was being carried at supernatural speed while barefoot, in a nightgown, very pregnant, very wet, and absolutely not in possession of the dignity I had once hoped motherhood would allow me to maintain.
By the time the hospital doors came into view, people were already waiting.
Of cou
