Page 1 of Wolf Bound

Prologue

The Croisés Lab, Twenty-four Years Ago

“Are you sure it’s time?” I ask, rushing down the hallway, the urgency of the call spiking adrenaline through my body. My blue scrubs rub together, creating a swishing sound with every step as I haphazardly throw my hair into a secure bun. “Something had to have happened for her to be going into labour so early. We should still have eight more weeks before delivery. There's extensive research on this and it's been determined that shifter pregnancies are the same length as human ones.”

“I'm not a fucking doctor like you, but I'm pretty damn sure, Hartfield,” Hillton grumbles beside me, resting a hand on hisgun as he keeps pace with me. This security guard is normally more put together than most of the doctors and nurses I work with, so if he's on edge, I have a reason to be as well.

Shit, this is going to be bad. Not that anything in this corrupt shithole is ever good, per se. I once thought I believed in God, but after the shit I've seen here, I can't say I do anymore. Ironically, joining a religious cult was the catalyst to that change.

We turn the corner to the hallway where the more comfortable medical rooms are located, just as a woman’s piercing scream fills the air. Without a second thought, I break into a run at the sound, my eyes glued to the ajar door that leads to the room with our current female shifter.

Bursting through the door, I do my best to take in the chaos of the room before me. It takes a moment for the scene in front of me to become clear, but when it does, I nearly vomit up my lunch.

There’s blood everywhere, far too much to be from a birth. A body lies in the corner, the standard security uniform of one of our officers just intact enough for me to make out. The father, a male bull shifter, is nowhere to be found and the possibilities of what happened flood my mind.

We were allowing him to stay in the room with his mate since he kept her calm during her pregnancy, but from the destruction in here, he must have gone off the deep end. Knowing this organisation, he's already dead. Probably was before he even left this room.

My eyes move back to the woman that needs to be my focus at this time. The carnage did not leave her untouched, and I can already tell from the bullet hole leaking from her shoulder that this delivery is going to be harder than any I've ever done before.

Rosalia, our female peryton shifter, is lying in a heap on the ground, blood coating her skin and the hospital gown. The gown is torn down the middle by her breasts, and a wave of nauseaand rage clogs my throat. The dead guard in the corner no longer concerns me in the slightest.

Pushing every other thought out of my head, I get to work. Blood splashes up my legs as my knees hit the floor next to the woman. There’s a frenzied panic in her eyes that squeezes something deep in my chest. Her breathing is erratic and uneven as the blood and sweat runs down her face. She's silently pleading with me, and the urgency and panic in her gaze tells me one thing; she knows one of them is going to die and she's begging me to save her child.

Moving between her legs, I see significant tearing as the child attempts to come through the birth canal. There's a haemorrhage somewhere adding to the significant bleeding, but it's impossible to see at the moment. Even in a fully equipped hospital, I would be at a loss for saving her. There's birth trauma mixed with external trauma and possibly even some of a sexual nature.

The blood loss from the bullet wound mixed with the blood loss from the tearing and haemorrhaging has made it impossible to save her. We have no blood to use for a transfusion, and even if we did, it would be pointless.

The heartbreaking truth is, even if this birth went completely by the book, she wouldn’t have been making it out of it. The protocols here are harsh, but they're the protocols we all need to follow. When a new mythical shifter is born, the predecessor must be terminated. Apparently if the mother is left alive, the child and mother will feed magic between them, creating a strong bond that enhances their already overpowered magic. This is bad for so many reasons, many of which end in our demise. The human race needs us to make the hard decisions so that we can survive.

“I need a towel and forceps NOW!” I yell behind me, my tone full of authority.

The more I take in, the more I know shit has hit the fan in the worst possible way. This child needs to come out now, or we’re going to lose both of them. The child's arm is trying to come out with the head, and the umbilical cord is wrapped between its head and shoulder indicating that it's most likely around the neck as well.

Throwing a warning over my shoulder to get ready with the towels, I grab the forceps being held over my shoulder and lie on my stomach in position to catch the infant.

“This is going to be fast, so be ready. I need you to push as if your child's life depends on it, because it does.”

Rosalia stares at me, her face shifting from fear to determination. In all of my years as a doctor, both for humans and now shifters, there's one thing that will always ring true; in the face of danger, a mother will do whatever it takes to save her child, consequences be damned.

With all her strength, Rosalia hooks her hands behind her knees and, using what energy she seems to have left, readies herself. The blood loss is making her pale and shaky, her eyes becoming glassy, but still she maintains eye contact with me, ready to do as I tell her.

"A big push for me. You can do this." I eye the crown of the baby's head and the hand fisted beside it. "The baby is in an awkward position and it will be difficult getting them out. A couple of big pushes from you, though, and your baby will be born."

Rosalia nods, drawing her knee up to her chest and letting out a scream fit for a warrior running into battle. She puts all her strength behind the push, her body lighting up with light blue magic that matches her peryton form.

The baby's head struggles to come out, but once the hand is through with it, they are quickly followed by the shoulders. Rosalia doesn't let up, despite the agony she must be in. I grabthe infant, pulling the rest of the child out just as she collapses from exhaustion.

Cradling the child in my arms, I unwrap the cord from around her neck and quickly notice her lack of cry and blue face even with the cord removed. The direness of the situation grows exponentially with every second the baby doesn't breathe on her own. I ignore Rosalia and lay the infant down in front of me to start doing CPR.

It's never something I like to do, but I start chest compressions on this barely born child as I scream for someone to grab me oxygen. I need to get this baby breathing now. If I lose both of them, I'm supremely fucked. This couldn't have gone more fucking sideways if it tried.

It feels like hours as I work on the baby with chest compressions and oxygen. In reality it's only a few minutes later when the infant lets out a choked cry followed by a piercing scream as the fluid that was stuck in her throat finally dislodges and comes out.

Instant relief floods my body. That little cry, so powerful and strong, sings to my heart far more than it should.

This job demands that I harden my heart and keep myself aloof and cold. The shit that happens in this lab leaves no room for warmth or kindness. When I became a doctor, this is what I wanted to do, to bring life into this world. I swore to do no harm and to save lives. The Croisés convinced me to abandon those principles with speeches about abominations and saving the souls of humans. Fucking bullshit, all of it. The person I used to be would be disgusted with the person I’ve become.

Huddling the baby close to my skin, I steel my expression as my eyes focus on the weak body of Rosalia. Her breathing is rapidly growing more shallow, and her body lies limp and sweaty in a pool of blood that’s growing by the second. If this was anyother job, any other fucking place, I would rush to save her. She never would have been left alone to bleed out and slowly die.

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