Page 58 of Nanny Omega

The doctor looked straight at Ersa, his face softening. “You’re pregnant.”

The words didn’t register at first. They floated around him like a distant echo, too surreal to hold on to. His heart stopped—and then slammed back into motion, thundering against his ribs.

“What?” His mother’s voice rose in pitch, her shock mirroring his own.

“We’ll run more tests to be absolutely sure,” Dr. Alora said, his voice calm but gentle. “But based on the results we have, you’re pregnant.”

Ersa stared at him, his vision swimming. His hand drifted down, fingers trembling as they traced the curve of his belly. It wasn’t a false pregnancy. It wasn’t a lie his body had been tricked into believing. There was life—real, precious life—growing inside him.

The room spun around him. Emotions burst inside his chest, a whirlwind of shock, joy, fear, and a love so fierce it nearly brought him to his knees.

“We can discuss your options,” Dr. Alora continued gently. “The center will take full responsibility for the mistake and support any decision you make. I truly apologize for—”

“I’m keeping it.” The words came out in a rush, his voice shaking with conviction.

“Ersa—” his mother began.

“No!” He pushed himself to his feet, his breath ragged. “It’s mine. This is my cub.” Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t care. Xander had his life—his cub, his bond mate. He had this. He had been ready to let go of everything, but the universe had given him one last piece of hope. He wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from him.

“Mother, let’s go.”

Ersa didn’t wait for a response. He turned and waddled toward the door, moving as fast as his unsteady body allowed. Every step felt frantic, driven by a desperate need to protect the tiny life inside him.

No one was going to take this cub from him. Not now.

Not ever.

***

Xander

Fury’s face filled the screen, his expression bright with excitement. “We should think about a launch party,” he said, his fingers flying across the console as he pulled up a series of charts and reviews. The numbers climbed in vivid bars, glowing with success. “Do you see how well the waste bot is doing? A fun event to celebrate and officially launch the bot would be amazing. The publicity alone—”

“You know I was never into things like that,” Xander cut in, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He rubbed at his temples, the ache behind his eyes growing sharper. “Besides, we’ve never done it before. Why start now?”

Fury went quiet, his sharp eyes fixed on Xander through the screen. Xander could feel the weight of that gaze, even across the distance—probing, concerned.

“What?” Xander asked, his tone defensive.

“Are you okay?” Fury’s voice softened.

Xander shrugged, turning to stare out the window. Outside, the sky was a heavy blanket of grey, clouds hanging low and thick — a reflection of the storm churning inside him. “I’m fine,” he said at last, though the words felt hollow.

Fury didn’t look convinced. “Mother’s been thinking of coming to visit. She’s worried—about you, Benjn, and Ersa. She hasn’t been sleeping. She wanted to come sooner, but she didn’t want to push you.”

“Tell her to come,” Xander said quietly. “It would be nice to have her here.”

“Alright,” Fury said softly. “Stay strong. And tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” Xander promised, though he knew he wouldn’t. He ended the call, the screen going dark with a soft click. Stretching his arms over his head, he tried to shake off the heaviness clinging to his bones.

But then Benjn’s cries pierced the silence.

The sound was thin and distressed, rising in intensity. Xander waited, expecting someone—anyone—to soothe the cub. But the cries only grew louder, more frantic.

Frowning, he pushed to his feet and followed the sound down the hallway. When he reached the nursery, the sight that met him stopped him cold.

Nath stood over the crib, his body frozen in place. He stared down at Benjn with wide, unblinking eyes, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He didn’t move. He didn’t reach out. He just stood there, as though he didn’t know what to do.