Mitchell POV
"Push, you stubborn b***h, or the pup dies inside you," the doctor snaps, his fingers slick with black, uncoils of bad blood.
Mazie screams. The sound tears chunks out of the plaster ceiling. Her fingernails are buried three inches deep into the meat of my forearm, crushing radius and ulna until the bone fibres grate. She is white as salt. Her stomach looks like an embedded cannonball under the stained hospital smock.
"I am trying," she howls. Her teeth click together, drawing a red line across her bottom lip. "I am trying, Mitchell."
"Do not let go of my hand," I say. My voice sounds like ground gravel. I am on one knee beside the iron cot. The room smells of wet copper, boiled vinegar, and the sharp, stinging stench of burnt sage. "Luka is getting Kinslee. Just breathe t
