CHAPTER 8 – THE SEED
1008 Words
LAYLA'S POV
The blinds in Thea's clinic are drawn when I walk in, and she's sitting behind her desk instead of pacing around the room like she usually does. Thea doesn't sit. She treats chairs like personal insults. So the fact that she's sitting tells me something before she opens her mouth.
"Close the door."
I close it and sit across from her, then she slides a folder toward me and opens it to a page full of numbers and markers I don't understand.
"Your baby is perfectly healthy. I want to lead with that."
"But?"
"There's a compound in your bloodwork that I don't recognize." She points to a line on the page. "It doesn't belong in a standard werewolf profile. I've cross-referenced it with everything in our database, and nothing matches."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I need to run more tests before I can tell you what it means." She looks at me over the top of the folder. "It could be nothing. It could be a pregnancy anomaly I haven't encountered before. But until I know more, I don't want you mentioning anything about the baby to anyone."
"Anyone?"
"Anyone." Her voice is steady but her eyes are doing something I don't like. "Not Brandon. Not Harper. Not the Ashfords. I just need a few more days with the samples."
I nod because what else am I going to do? So I thank her and leave the clinic and walk back to my room with the specific kind of dread that comes from a doctor saying "don't worry" in exactly the tone that means you should absolutely be worrying.
But after a few hours of ruminating over what could be wrong with the baby, something else happens that makes me easily file it away.
Brandon snaps at me for the second time this week – this time in front of people. I'm in the common room talking to Gears – our pack’s mechanic – about the garage schedule and I call Elder Bishop "Bish" the same way I've called him since I was twelve years old, and Brandon cuts across the room like I've committed a crime.
"You can't just talk to council members like you're in charge, Layla. You're not. Show some respect."
The room goes quiet. Gears looks at the floor. I look at my brother, and the words hit me in a place that's still raw from the council vote.
He blinks. Shakes his head. "That was out of line. I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
It's not fine, but he looks genuinely confused, so I let it go and I’m about to change the topic when he begins to talk about Megan again. He's been mentioning Megan more frequently lately – "Megan said the accounts are balanced" and "Megan thinks we should move the patrol schedule." He even goes to her for things he used to handle himself or bring to the triplets, and the leather bracelet she gave him is always on his wrist – to the point that I have to wonder if he is in love with her or something.
Garrett calls again the next afternoon, without any of the fake acts.
"My lawyer filed a prenatal rights petition. It was approved. I have a legal right to attend your next appointment."
I grip the phone harder. "What?"
"Just send me the time, Layla. This doesn't have to be difficult."
He's not pretending anymore.
I tell him the appointment time just to avoid trouble and hang up immediately, so he doesn’t hear my voice shake.
***
That night, Megan hosts a communal dinner in the main hall. She's at the head of the table – my father's usual spot – and she's glowing with the specific warmth of a woman performing family.
"I'm just so glad we're all together again." She raises her glass. "Family is everything."
The metallic taste hits so hard I nearly drop my fork, and I have to swallow twice before I can keep chewing. I glance around the table to see if anyone else noticed, but nobody's looking at me. They're all smiling at Megan.
Later, Elder Sawyer catches me in the hallway on my way back from dinner.
"Layla." He puts a hand on my shoulder, and his face does something that's supposed to look fatherly. "I always thought you had real leadership potential. I hope you know that."
The chill runs down both my forearms, and I have to clasp my hands together to keep from visibly reacting.
"Thank you, Elder Sawyer."
He nods and walks away and I stand in the hallway trying to understand what just happened in my body. Every time someone says something that doesn't sit right, my body reacts before my brain can explain why.
Then it hits me.
The pregnancy is likely giving me heightened stress responses. Hypervigilance from the trauma. It makes sense – my body has been through hell in the last few weeks and it's probably just firing warnings at everything that moves.
The next morning, another bouquet arrives for me at the clubhouse with red roses – he knows I hate them – and a card that says: Counting the days.
Once I read the words, the copper taste floods my mouth so strongly I have to set the bouquet down and walk outside, and I stand in the back lot of the clubhouse with my hand on my stomach and breathe through it. Then I go back inside and notice Brandon in the hallway by the window, looking out at the lot with his hand resting on the leather bracelet.
As I look at him, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I get the daunting feeling that something is wrong with him. But another part of me reminds me that I’ve been on edge for the past few days, so I shove it down and walk past him as I think about how to tell Doc Thea that Garrett is coming for my next appointment.
- Writer
