Page 33 of In Their Arms

The words leave my mouth, a desperate attempt to reach out, to anchor myself to something familiar, something real. But there’s nothing. No phone, no way to contact anyone. I don’t even remember anyone’s numbers. I was so focused on getting out, on getting rid of Hudson’s claim, that I hadn’t thought beyond the immediate moment. I hadn’t thought about what happened after.

He gives me an almost pitied look before pushing to stand. “I can’t help you then, Luca. You, as an Omega, should know how serious this is. I had to file it with the police. They’re going to have some questions for you, alright?”

Fuck. I knew this was a possibility. The second I woke up in a hospital, I knew. I knew the second I felt the bandages on my neck, the sterile sting of antiseptic in the air, the way the machines monitored every beat of my heart. I knew the second I realized that I didn’t get here on my own. But knowing it was a possibility and hearing it confirmed are two entirely different things.

I am in deep fucking shit. If there isn’t a whole-ass miracle, I’m going to end up in jail or worse. But that’s not even the biggest problem. Even though I won’t have to feel Hudson in my head anymore, even though his claim is gone, severed, erased from my skin—if this baby is his, everything else will go to shit.

I lower my hands to my stomach, my fingers shaking as they press lightly over the still-flat expanse of skin. Too early to tell. Too early to know. But not too early for the truth to sit there like a fucking time bomb, waiting to go off. I send a silent prayer, a desperate plea, a whispered hope to whatever cruel universe decided this was my fate.

Please.

Don’t let this baby be Hudson’s.

The drugs are mostly out of my system now, but I can still feel their lingering effects, leaving my limbs sluggish, my thoughts clouded in static. My shoulder aches beneath the bandages, a dull, persistent throb, but it’s not the pain that unsettles me. It’s the absence.

The space in my mind where Hudson’s bond used to be is hollow and unfinished. My Omega instincts still search for something that isn’t there, something that was ripped away and will never return. It’s a wound I can’t soothe, a pain that doesn’t fully register yet, like my body refuses to accept that it’s finally gone. But through the emptiness, there’s something else. The men I’ve grown to love and the bonds I have with them, their emotions spilling into me.

Grayson. Luther. Blake. Even Maceo, though more distant, is there. There’s love, but also frustration, desperation, and something else that simmers just beneath the surface. They know something is wrong.

I breathe in slowly, letting their presence steady me, letting it push away the creeping fear that slithers into my ribs, tightening its grip with every second I spend alone. I don’t know how much time has passed, how long I’ve been lying here with nothing but the beeping of the machines to keep me company, but I know they’re searching for me.

My thoughts twist, taking a sharp turn down a dark road. Would they still keep me if this baby is Hudson’s? Would they still love me?

How would joint custody even work? Would Hudson fight for it? Of course, he fucking would. He’d never let something he considered his go that easily. The courts might favor him, might see me as an unfit Omega because I ran, because I fought back, because I tried to sever something they believe is sacred.

Would I have to hand over my child to him?

A sharp, nauseating wave of fear rushes up my throat, making it hard to focus but I shove it down just as the door opens, the doctor stepping inside first. It’s the two figures behind him that makes my blood run cold. Detective Ward and Peyton. I recognize both of them as detectives that handled Luther’s case so there’s no escaping my fate now.

Ward’s expression is tight with something like sympathy, like he already knows exactly how this conversation is going to go. Like he already feels sorry for me. But Peyton? Peyton looks like he’s about to rip me apart.

Peyton snorts at the way I flinch, slowly dragging the blanket up over me. “The Keller pack just can’t keep you out of trouble, huh?” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Paying for a damn bite removal while the investigation is still open. Bold move.”

“This wasn’t because of Luther or Grayson.” My voice is rough, strained from exhaustion and pain, but I hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the way my hands shake beneath the thin hospital blanket.

Peyton barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? Then who was it? Maceo?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against my face. “Or maybe it was that fucking Omega because lord knows he’s rolling in money. Who gave you permission to do that bullshit?”

I snap. “No one did!” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, my breath hitching on the last word, but fuck him. Fuck him for acting like I needed someone to sign off on this, like I wasn’t strong enough to make this decision for myself.

Peyton clicks his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “So, you just thought you’d run off and do it yourself? Who did it, Luca? Who was the doctor?”

I can feel Ward’s eyes on me, watching, waiting, gauging whether I’m about to break. He hasn’t said anything but when I flick my gaze toward him, I see the warning there, the silent message telling me to be careful.

Ward steps closer, his voice softer than Peyton’s but still laced with warning. “Luca, this is really serious. Getting a bite removal performed without permission comes with serious fines and charges.” He pauses, giving me a moment to process before he continues, “You’re looking at thousands of dollars in legal fees, drug charges, and maybe even community service.”

I swallow down the panic, forcing my expression to stay neutral before leaning back against the pillows.

Peyton scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re quiet? You think staying silent is gonna save your ass?”

I shake my head, refusing to answer, refusing to give him what he wants. I’m not saying a damn thing. Not until they give me to my mates.

Peyton lets out a sharp exhale, clearly irritated that I won’t crack. He glares at me for another second before stepping back, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake off his annoyance.

But I don’t care. Because no matter what charges they throw at me, no matter what kind of legal bullshit I have to deal with next—legally, I am no longer claimed by Hudson Ellis.

And damn, that feels amazing.

20

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