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who’d been trained in the 1800s but did his best to keep up with modern medicine of both the human and veterinary varieties. In the past two centuries, he’d overseen more than his fair share of births, and it stood to reason that he knew what he was talking about. Besides, it wasn’t like Ali could go to a normal hospital, not when her baby was anything but.
    Blood. Blood-blood-blood-blood—
    I tried not to think about the bad thing. I tried not to think about women, just like Ali, who hadn’t survived. I tried not to picture myself hiding under the sink, terrified and alone, knowing there wasn’t a single thing I could do to stop death when it came knocking on my door.
    Callum brushed my hair out of my face, forcing my mind to the present. “She’ll be fine, Bryn.” He paused, and my Mark hummed in a way that made me wonder if his stomach was twisting, too. “I promise you, Ali will be fine.”
    Werewolves didn’t make promises lightly. Callum, as alpha, was bound by his word. I really wanted to believe him, but there was no way he could know for sure. Even Callum wasn’t psychic.
    His lips curved upward, ever so slightly—half warning, half smile. “I also promise, little Bronwyn, that for the next three weeks until the baby is born, you won’t so much as sneeze out of turn. You’ll go to school. You’ll go home. You can make as many paper fire hydrants as you want, but you’ll stop pushing it.”
    I had a feeling that what he really meant was that I’d stop pushing him. Stop asking questions. Stop thinking about the scent of danger in the air, the indescribable buzzing that told me that something in our pack was off.
    “Ali will be fine, and you’ll be on your best behavior.” The tone in Callum’s voice sounded more like prophecy than an order, and I pushed down the urge to challenge him. Part of me wanted to, but the other part couldn’t stop thinking about Ali.
    You’ll be on your best behavior, and Ali will be fine.

    I inverted the order of Callum’s words and silently made Fate a deal. I would do whatever Callum said, would do whatever anyone said, and in return, karma, the universe, whatever would see to it that Ali made it through alive.
    Fair was fair. A bargain was a bargain—and at this point, all there was left to do was wait.

CHAPTER FOUR
    “SHE’S OKAY. SHE’S OKAY. SHE’S GOT TO BE OKAY.” I turned on my heels and started walking back down the hallway, continuing my litany. “She’s got to be okay, right, Lance?”
    Devon’s father—all 6′6″ of him—was my current bodyguard and the least talkative werewolf I knew, so it wasn’t exactly a shocker when he didn’t respond. Only this time, I wasn’t sure whether it was because he wasn’t exactly social in his human form, or because he didn’t know what to say. Bryn babysitting duty encompassed many things, but it usually didn’t involve me teetering on the edge of hysteria and reaching out to the closest Slab of Werewolf to pull me back.
    “Ali’s going to be fine.” I addressed my words to Lance’s mammoth chest, unwilling to look him in the eye. “She’s strong.
    She’s never backed down from a fight.” Speaking hurt my throat, which tightened as I tried to breathe. “Not everyone dies,” I said more softly. “She’s going to be okay, right, Lance?”
    “Right,” Lance said, suddenly discovering his voice. I glanced up at him, and his strong, Nordic features shuddered as he attempted something that resembled a smile the way that a great white shark resembles a goldfish.
    That, more than anything, freaked me out. Ali was less than twelve feet away, behind closed doors with the pack’s doctor, an hour into a labor that was more likely to kill her than not. My entire body was shaking, and no matter what I said, the ghosts dancing in the corners of my mind whispered that everyone did die. Maybe not in labor, but when it came to me and mothers, dying was the status quo.
    And now, Lance was actually