CHAPTER 217: ASKING FOR HELP

Hailee’s POV

I wiped the last of my tears with the back of my hand, my chest still rising and falling unevenly. The hallway was quiet again, too quiet. Only the faint hum of the hospital lights and the distant echo of nurses’ voices reached my ears.

And then it hit me: I remember someone who could help. It had been ten years. Ten long years since I’d heard his voice.

I stood quickly and walked to the hospital call line near the nurses’ station. The nurse looked up confused, but I didn’t say a word. I just picked up the old landline, my fingers trembling as I typed the number I knew by heart.

The line rang once. Twice. Then a click.

A deep voice answered, cautious at first. "Hello?"

My throat closed. My eyes filled again. "Peter..." I whispered.

There was silence, then a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Hailee?"

A tear rolled down my cheek as I gripped the phone tighter. "Yes... it’s me."

"My God..." he breathed. "Ten years, Hailee. Ten years and you vanish without a word. Do you have any idea—"

"Peter, please," I cut in softly. "I don’t have much time. I need your help."

His tone changed instantly, all anger fading into concern. "What’s wrong? Are you safe?"

I looked down at my trembling hands, at the faint smears of dried blood still on my wrist from the IV I had ripped out earlier. "No," I whispered. "Not anymore."

He was silent for a moment. Then his voice came back, firm. "Where are you?"

"In the Western Pack hospital," I said quietly. "And Peter... it’s about my sons."

There was another pause, heavy and serious. "Sons?" he repeated slowly.

I closed my eyes, tears falling again. "Three of them."

He didn’t respond right away, but when he finally spoke, his tone was calm and full of that steady authority I remembered so well. "Alright," he said. "Tell me everything from the beginning."

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say, where to begin from.

Peter’s voice came through, calm but heavy. "You were pregnant."

"Yes," I breathed. "And I didn’t even know who the father was."

There was silence again, thick and cold. I could almost picture him, one hand pressed against his forehead, the way he always did when trying to hold in his temper.

"Did you let any of them know?"

I swallowed hard and whispered, "No."

"Hailee," he said quietly. "You disappeared for ten years because you were scared of them finding out?"

"I didn’t disappear to punish anyone," I said quickly. "I did it to protect my babies. You don’t understand, Peter; those men, Nathan, Callum, Dane, they were all powerful Alphas. If they knew I was pregnant, it would’ve started a war. Each one would’ve claimed the child as theirs, and the others would never have accepted it."

"So you hid them," he said flatly.

"I had to," I whispered. "I gave birth alone in a strange land with nothing but fear and guilt eating me alive. And I raised them, the three of them, quietly, away from the packs, pretending I was just another widow trying to start over."

I wiped at my tears again, my voice trembling. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was saving them from chaos. But now... now everything’s fallen apart anyway."

Peter was silent for a moment before asking carefully, "Do they know?"

"Yes," I breathed. "All of them. And shockingly, my sons have different fathers."

Peter was quiet, like he was trying to process my words. "What is happening now?"

"They’re taking them away from me," I said, my voice breaking. "Each one is claiming his own child, as heir, as legacy, as blood. They’re dividing my sons, Peter. They’re tearing them apart from each other and from me."

I pressed a hand to my chest, my heart aching. "I can’t lose them. I won’t."

For a moment, there was only silence on the line. Then I heard Peter inhale deeply. "You said you’re in Western Pack territory?"

"Yes."

He muttered something under his breath, too low for me to catch. Then, in his usual steady tone, he said, "Alright. Listen carefully. I’m coming to you."

My breath hitched. "What? Peter, no, you can’t—"

"I am," he interrupted firmly. "You need me, who understands the council system. You can’t fight three Alphas alone, Hailee. But with me, you won’t have to."

Tears burned my eyes again. "Peter, I don’t want to drag you into this. I don’t want you having a clash with father."

He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "You don’t have to worry about him. Besides," his voice softened, "you’re my little sister. You always have been. If anyone’s going to fight for you, it’s me."

I smiled. "Thank you," I whispered. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You won’t have to find out," he said simply. "Stay there. Don’t say anything until I arrive. I’ll handle the rest."

The line went quiet for a moment, then he added, "Hailee, it’s been long, a lot happened, and I need to tell you, but let’s talk when we meet. I will be there before nightfall."

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. "I’ll be waiting," I whispered.

"Good," he said softly. "And Hailee, stop crying. You’ve done enough of that for a lifetime. Be strong now, for them."

A small, shaky smile tugged at my lips. "I will."

"See you soon, little sister."

The line clicked, and the call ended.

For a moment, I just stood there, holding the phone against my chest. My heart felt heavy, but for the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of something else inside me—strength Peter was right. Crying wouldn’t change anything. It was time to fight.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, took a deep breath, and squared my shoulders. "Enough," I whispered to myself. "You’ve cried enough, Hailee. Be their mother now."

With that, I turned and walked back toward the boys’ room.

When I entered, the three men, Nathan, Callum, and Dane, were still there, standing near the beds, talking quietly among themselves. They stopped when they saw me, their eyes flickering with mixed emotions — guilt, anger, and confusion.

I didn’t look at them. Not this time.

My focus went straight to my sons.

Oscar was sitting up slightly, fiddling with the blanket. Oliver was staring out the window, his little jaw tight. Ozzy was half-lying down, pretending to be asleep, though I knew better.

"My boys," I said softly, walking closer. "What would you like to eat?"

None of them answered.

My chest tightened, but I forced a calm smile. "You need to eat something. For strength."

Still, silence.

I took another step closer. "I know you’re angry," I said gently. "And you have every right to be. But I’m still your mother. That hasn’t changed, and it never will."

My voice wavered, but I stood tall. "You can hate me all you want, but I will always love you. Always."

Oliver shifted slightly on his bed but didn’t look at me. Oscar’s eyes flicked toward me for just a second before dropping again.

Callum cleared his throat quietly behind me. "We’ve already ordered food," he said, his tone neutral. "The nurse will bring it soon."

I nodded slowly, not turning to look at him. "Alright."

I walked over to Oliver’s bed and reached out to touch his forehead gently. His skin was warm, but his temperature seemed normal. I brushed his hair back softly, my heart aching at how cold and distant he looked.

"How are you feeling?" I whispered.

He hesitated before mumbling, "Fine."

I smiled faintly. "Good. That’s good."

But inside, my heart broke all over again. I could feel his anger—not loud or explosive, but quiet, deep, and heavy. The kind that cut deeper than words ever could.

I sat on the edge of his bed, my voice barely above a whisper. "I know you don’t want to talk to me right now. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. No matter what happens, I’m still your mom."

He didn’t respond. None of them did.

I tried to stay calm, tried to breathe, but it hurt too much to look at them and see nothing but distance where there used to be love.

Then Nathan suddenly spoke. "They’ll be discharged tomorrow."

My head snapped up. He was standing near Oscar’s bed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His tone left no room for argument, calm but cold, like this decision had already been made long before the words left his mouth.

"Tomorrow?" I repeated quietly, though my voice trembled.

Nathan nodded once. "Yes. The doctors said they’re healing well enough. There’s no reason to keep them here longer." His gaze flicked toward me, unreadable. "They’ll each be going home with their fathers."

The words hit me like a blade straight through the chest.

For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. My throat went dry, my lips parted, but no sound came out. I just stared at him, at all of them, hoping someone would say it was a mistake. That they weren’t serious. That they wouldn’t take my sons away from me so soon.

But no one said anything.

Callum kept his eyes on the floor. Dane adjusted the blanket around Ozzy, avoiding my gaze completely. And Nathan, Nathan just stood there, his jaw clenched, as if he was holding back the rest of what he wanted to say.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand up. My knees trembled, but I steadied myself.

"Tomorrow," I repeated softly, more to myself than to anyone else.

I looked at my boys again—my heart, my world, my everything. None of them looked back.

And right then, Peter’s words echoed in my mind. "Don’t say anything until I arrive. I’ll handle the rest."

So I didn’t.

I didn’t beg.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t argue.

Nathan frowned slightly at how quiet I sounded, like he expected me to fight. But I didn’t. Not this time.