CHAPTER 145: LABOUR

Hailee’s POV

Six months

"Frederick, you don’t have to do this," I complained for what felt like the hundredth time.

But as always, he ignored me. His cool hands stayed firm and gentle, pressing against my swollen feet, working the ache out of them with careful patience.

I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "Honestly, I’ve told you I can manage."

"You’ve told me many things," he said calmly, not looking up. "And I’ve ignored most of them."

I shot him a tired glare, but he didn’t flinch. He never did.

"Frederick—"

"Hailee." His tone softened, though his hands kept their steady rhythm. "You’re carrying three lives inside you. If I can ease even a fraction of that burden, I will."

My chest tightened at his words. I wanted to argue, to tell him again he didn’t owe me anything, but the truth was... I didn’t hate the comfort. I didn’t hate his steady presence at my side.

I rested my head back and closed my eyes. "You’re stubborn," I muttered.

"Correct," he replied simply, and I swore I could almost hear the ghost of a smile in his voice.

I didn’t know how or when I had fallen asleep, but when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Frederick. He was seated on the armchair across from me, his tall frame folded with quiet patience, his eyes fixed on me as always.

If it had been months ago, I would have found it unsettling and creepy—him sitting there, watching me while I slept. But now, I was used to it. His presence had become a strange kind of comfort, a shield I didn’t know I needed.

"You’re awake," he said, his voice low. He rose from the chair and crossed the room with that smooth, quiet grace of his. "How do you feel?"

I pushed myself up against the pillows, brushing hair from my face. "Heavy. Tired. The usual."

He gave a small nod, his lips curving faintly. "Still beautiful, though."

My breath caught at the words, my heart skipping before I could stop it. His gaze lingered on mine, longer than it should have, and suddenly the air between us shifted.

He reached out, his cool fingers brushing my cheek, and I didn’t move. My chest rose and fell too quickly, my pulse racing as he leaned closer.

For a moment, I let him. His face was so close I could feel the whisper of his breath, the weight of his presence pressing against me. His lips brushed mine lightly—soft, careful, almost asking for permission.

And I almost let him in.

But in that same instant, Nathan’s laugh, Callum’s voice, Dane’s touch—all of them flooded my mind like a storm. My heart twisted painfully, and before I could stop myself, I pulled away, shaking my head.

"I can’t," I whispered, my voice breaking.

Frederick froze, searching my face, but he didn’t force it. He only nodded once, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he drew back.

And then—pain ripped through me.

Sharp, sudden, blinding. My hands flew to my stomach as a cry tore from my throat. My whole body tightened, the pressure unbearable.

"Hailee!" Frederick’s voice snapped into command, worried but urgent, as he caught me before I could fall back against the bed.

Another wave of pain crashed through me, stronger, making my breath hitch and my vision blur. "It’s—it’s starting," I gasped, clutching his arm.

The pain slammed through me again, harder, tearing the breath from my lungs. I clutched at Frederick’s arm, gasping, my vision swimming.

"Hold on," Frederick said firmly, sounding panicked now. He pulled out his black phone, fingers moving quickly. "It’s happening. We need them—now."

I barely heard the words as another scream ripped out of me. Sweat covered my face, my body trembling under the strain.

The door burst open, and Mother rushed in, her eyes wide with fear. Behind her came another figure—Frederick’s mother. Both women hurried to my side, their hands hovering, helpless.

"She’s in labor," Frederick said quickly, his voice calm, controlled. He snapped the phone shut. "They’re on their way."

And soon—they came. The midwife first, her arms full of cloths and bowls. Then the doctors, carrying cases of sharp tools and bottles that smelled of herbs. And finally—a healer. The air turned thick with panic and urgency as everyone got set to work.

"Lay her back," the midwife commanded. "She’s dilating. We must start."

Frederick slid behind me, lifting my upper body gently as I leaned into him. His chest was firm, steady against my back, his arms bracing me like a wall. I could hear his low voice near my ear. "I’m here, Hailee. Just stay calm."

"Push!" the doctor urged.

I tried. Moon above, I tried. My whole body shook as I screamed and bore down, but nothing happened. Nothing moved.

"Again!"

I pushed harder, tears streaming, but the pain only grew sharper. It felt like I was breaking apart, my chest tightening, my vision dimming.

"They’re not coming," the midwife whispered, her voice shaking.

The healer stepped closer, her hands glowing faintly as she pressed her palms over my stomach. Her eyes widened, her face paling as she looked at the others.

"She cannot deliver them," the healer said, her voice heavy, almost sorrowful.

"What?" Frederick snapped, his voice cutting through the panic. "Why?"

The healer’s eyes fixed on me. "Because she does not bear the mark."

My chest heaved. "Wh-what mark?" I gasped, barely able to breathe.

"The mark of the father," the healer said firmly. "Triplets such as these cannot be born unless the mother carries their sire’s bond. Without his mark, the womb cannot open, and the babes cannot pass."

Frederick’s arm tightened around me, his voice trembling for the first time since I’d known him. "And without that?"

The healer’s eyes softened, but her words fell like a death sentence. "She will die, and so will they."

The room spun. The healer’s words cut deeper than the pain tearing through me. Die? My heart stopped in my chest, then thundered wildly as another wave of agony ripped me apart.

"No—no, please!" I sobbed, clutching at Frederick’s sleeve with shaking fingers. "I can’t die. Not now. Not like this."

Mother stumbled forward, her face white as chalk. She grabbed the healer’s wrist, desperation sharp in her voice. "There has to be another way! She’s my daughter—you cannot just say this!"

But the healer shook her head grimly. "These are no ordinary pups. They carry Alpha’s blood. They will not leave her body unless their sire’s mark rests upon her. Without it, the womb stays sealed."