"The bleeding has bypassed the observation window," Dr. Mara said, stepping directly into Cole's path and blocking the surgical corridor. "The placenta is separating further by the second. We are cutting her open right now."

I gripped the metal rail of the stretcher. Another wave of cramps tore through my lower abdomen, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. The sterile overhead lights flickered as my vision blurred.

"Can you save the baby?" Cole asked, his voice tight.

"I cannot guarantee the survival of a five-month fetus," Dr. Mara shot back, her tone entirely clinical. "But right now, I am worried about your wife. The pain and blood loss are throwing her wolf into unstable shock. Before I put her under anesthesia, she needs mate stabilization to anchor her vitals."

Cole stared at the frantic, erratic spikes on my monitor.

"This isn't a visit," Dr. Mara told him, her voice rising over the chaotic noise of the emergency bay. "She needs her mate."

Cole finally reached down. He wrapped his long fingers around my hand. His skin felt freezing against my damp palm.

"I will go in with you first," he said.

I did not relax. The echo of his voice from last night still rang in my ears, telling me I was strong enough to handle things alone.

"Say it again," I demanded, locking my eyes onto his pale face. "Promise me."

"I will stay—"

"Alpha Ashford!" Dr. Thorne yelled, bursting through the swinging doors of the adjacent trauma bay.

Cole jerked his head toward the sudden noise.

The private surgeon rushed over, clutching a digital tablet against his chest. "The trauma from the fall aggravated Emma's old fracture. We have new nerve compression spreading up her spine. If I do not repair it immediately, she will permanently lose her ability to shift."

"Is she dying?" Dr. Mara snapped, stepping between Thorne and my stretcher to shield me.

"No," Thorne admitted, glaring at the pack doctor. "But tonight's surgical window dictates whether she ever runs on four legs again. Her nervous system is degrading rapidly."

Across the wide corridor, Emma lay flat on her stretcher. She began to tremble violently. Her teeth chattered loud enough to carry over the ambient hospital noise.

"I won't ask him to leave you, Serena," Emma called out, her voice cracking into a high pitch. "I can do this alone."

She did not look at Cole. She looked straight at Finn.

My adopted son shattered. He released his grip on my stretcher and lunged at Cole, grabbing fistfuls of his father's dark coat.

"She doesn't have a mate!" Finn screamed, tears pouring down his red cheeks. "She has no parents. There is nobody else to sign for her!"

I stared at the nine-year-old boy I had raised through fevers and nightmares. Emma did not need to beg Cole directly. She only had to put her profound loneliness on display for a child, knowing Finn would fight her battle for her.

"Finn, step back," Dr. Mara ordered, trying to guide the boy away.

Finn shoved her hand away. "Dad, please!"

"We are losing time," Dr. Mara warned, tapping her clipboard. "OR Two is prepped and waiting."

I pulled Cole's hand toward my chest. "Just stay for the stabilization," I said, stripping every ounce of pride from my voice. "Complete the bond anchor. Then go to her side."

"I will," Cole said, nodding once.

Nurses unlocked the wheels of Emma's bed. They pushed her toward the opposite surgical corridor. The wheels squeaked loudly against the linoleum floor.

Cole instinctively turned his head, tracking her movement away from us.

"Dad!" Finn sobbed, yanking hard on Cole's sleeve. "Are you going to let her wake up all alone?"

I refused to give him another buffer.

"Don't tell me you will be right back," I said.

Cole snapped his attention back to me.

"Decide right now," I told him, my voice dropping to a harsh, ragged whisper. "Are you my mate first, or her Alpha emergency contact first?"

For one agonizing second, he said nothing.

Then, his fingers loosened around mine.

He did not release my hand completely, but that tiny reduction of pressure gave me the answer. The mate bond flared with a sickening ache in my chest. He had already placed me in the column of things that could wait.

Dr. Mara shoved a blue clipboard into the space between us. It held my mate stabilization consent form.

A surgical nurse rushed up to Cole's opposite side. She held out a yellow shift-preservation authorization for Emma.

"Both procedures can move forward," Dr. Mara said. "This is not about choosing who receives care. The first signature determines which team gets the Alpha authorization and which patient waits for stabilization. Serena's delay is measured in blood loss. Emma's is measured in nerve function. Understand the difference."

Cole's gaze moved between the forms. The corridor went completely, unnaturally quiet around all of us now. He could not pretend the consequences had not been explained.

"Ten seconds," Dr. Mara counted down, her face grim.

My fetal monitor let out a long, piercing shriek. The blood pressure cuff squeezed my arm tight.

"Cole!" Emma cried out from the end of the hall, reaching her hand out toward the empty air.

Finn stood directly between the two clipboards, crying so hard he started to hyperventilate. His small shoulders shook with every breath.

Cole looked down at me. His jaw shifted. I saw the familiar pity forming in his eyes, the exact expression he wore whenever he reminded me of my resilience.

"If you dare say I will understand," I cut him off, my chest heaving with every word. "Never expect me to understand."

Dr. Mara thrust a plastic stylus directly toward his chest.

"Alpha Cole, Serena cannot wait anymore," the doctor ordered, leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "You must decide which one to sign first right now."

Cole took the pen from her hand and pressed the black tip down against the yellow paper.