Leah's POV
I went still, my gut twisting. Lucas. The name was a blade in my chest, rusted with old blood. I didn't answer, didn't trust my voice.
Dr. Jafar pressed on, relentless. "He's got nothing left - his men were hunted down by Finn. There was no one left in his family. Only machines keep him ticking. When his mind clears, he calls for you, Leah. He was great once, towering. Now he's… this."
He showed me a picture on his mobile.
The figure sprawled on that hospital bed was a ruin - bandages coiled around him like chains, tubes jutting from his flesh, instruments humming their cold, indifferent song. Haggard. Withered. If Dr. Jafar hadn't muttered Lucas' name, I'd never have known it was him.
My mind lurched back, dragging me to the library where I first saw him. He slouched against a shelf, white shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, arms flexing with elegant, solid lines as he flipped through pages like they bored him. That smirk of his hit me, and heat flooded my body, a reckless burn I couldn't fight. I'd wanted him - fierce, unruly, mine.
Now, that boy was gone, twisted into this broken, deformed shell.
I looked away.
"Well, I don't want to know," I snapped, my voice ice-cold.
He didn't flinch. "He was your mate, Your Highness. The deeper your hate, the deeper your love once ran. He's dying, clinging to life just to see you one last time - he wants to explain, end it clean. You need a closure, too, whether you admit it or not."
I turned away, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. "I tried to rip his heart out," I hissed. "That was my closure. He's dead to me. I won't face him again."
Dr. Jafar's voice cracked, desperate now. "Finn's going to dismember him - turn him into one of those zombie werewolf warriors. It's an insult to the Farrow name, to everything he once was. You were a couple once - I'm begging you, spare him from that!"
I stared at the ground, the Farrow family's fall clawing at my mind. Once lords of the north, now carrion for Finn's games. And Lucas, pleading through this Omega doctor's lips - pathetic. My chest tightened, rage and pity warring inside me.
"Fine," I spat, my voice low and lethal. "I'll visit him before the next full moon. But you'd better keep him intact until then."
Relief flooded Dr. Jafar's face, his shoulders sagging. "Thank you, Your Highness."
I waved him off, done with his gratitude, and yanked my phone from my pocket. Seth picked up on the second ring, his voice dripping with petulance.
"I'm still angry with you, boss," he whined. "You drove Liam away - how do I face him now? He's ignoring me, big shot that he is. I need an appointment just to breathe his air. His assitant made me wait in the lobby!"
I sighed, biting back a snarl. "Being angry won't drag him back. He's got his life - now I need you to do your job. Fed Sharbo yet? She's moody when she's hungry."
"I'm with her now," Seth grumbled. "She's starving - wants some fresh sardines, maybe. When you coming back? I'm hungry like hell."
"Chinese sound good?" I asked, softening just enough to hook him.
His tone perked up. "Seafood Jumbo fried rice, Kung Pao chicken, two spring rolls. Oh... and Leo said he wants fried noodles with separate chili sauce... and braised prawns."
I smirked. The more someone craved love, the easier they were to leash. Feed them a scrap, and they'd heel like dogs. "Deal," I said, then hung up.
The hospital doors loomed behind me as I stepped into the twilight, the sky a smear of purple and black. There, against his Harley Davidson, Darren waited - his silhouette a jagged cut against the fading light. He turned, catching my eye, and flicked his cigarette away, the ember dying in the dirt. The boy I'd known was gone, replaced by this weathered man, all hard edges and quiet strength.
"So?" he asked, tossing me a helmet, his voice rough with hope.
I caught it, a smile tugging at my lips despite the day's rot. "We're having a boy. A very healthy boy."
He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his arms crushing me against him, his mouth claiming mine in a storm of kisses - hungry, tender, fierce. One hand gripped the helmet; the other hoisted me onto the bike, effortless and possessive. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.
"Leah," he whispered, "I've imagined this a thousand times..."
I kissed him back, slow and deep. "Same as you pictured?"
He grinned, eyes glinting. "No imagination's this intoxicating."
He strapped the helmet on me, his fingers lingering, then asked, "Where to?"
"Chinese takeout," I said, "then Pier 16 for sardines. Two very hungry young men and a pissed-off shark are waiting."
He chuckled, pulling his own helmet on. "Why not feed the them to Sharbo? Then, we could steal some time alone."
I laughed - soft, real, a sound I barely recognized. Darren's gaze softened, drinking me in.
"What?" I asked, ducking my head, shy under his stare.
"Haven't seen you smile like that in forever," he said, voice thick.
I flushed, realizing he was right. Men had come and gone, tearing pieces of me away, but Darren - he stitched me back, made me feel alive. Love, that reckless beast I'd chased, had been here all along.
The bike roared to life, and I wrapped myself around him, my cheek pressed to his back, his scent grounding me - leather, smoke, him. We sped through the streets, the wind howling, the city lights bleeding into streaks. For a moment, I let myself dream - me, Darren, our boy, a life unshackled from this bloody mess.
Then a screech split the air, metal and fury bearing down.
A gigantic truck loomed, headlights blinding. Its shadow took us, swift and merciless.