Chapter Nine
Jack
I guide him out of the hospital lobby with one hand at his back—light, steady. He doesn't resist, but I can feel the tension in him. Every step is tight, cautious, like he's bracing for the ground to vanish.
I get it.
He's been hunted, cornered, dragged through hell. Now he's walking out with me—an alpha he barely knows.
I'm still a stranger.
But when I heard that heartbeat, saw that little body on the monitor—I knew. Protecting him, protecting that child… it's not just his turning point. It's mine.
I might never get a family of my own. But I can give them a chance at one.
We step out into the sunshine, the lot buzzing with hospital staff, visitors, and taxi horns. Then—
Ciel freezes.
His gaze locks on something ahead. His lips part. His whole body jolts like a live wire.
"Nolan?" he breathes.
Before I can blink, he's gone—slipping out of my reach, sprinting across the lot.
"Ciel—hey!" I call, breaking into a jog after him.
He barrels straight toward a commotion near a taxi and two cops.
And then I see him.
The guy turns at the sound of his name. Hoodie hanging loose, blue eyes sharp even from here, mouth parting in disbelief.
Nolan.
The childhood friend. The loyal beta. The one Rose wrote as the eternal second lead.
Their collision is instant. Ciel throws himself forward, and Nolan catches him, arms wrapping tight like he's been starving for this moment.
"Thank God," Nolan breathes into his hair. His voice cracks. "I thought—I thought I lost you—"
"I'm okay," Ciel whispers, clutching his hoodie. "I'm okay."
My chest twists at the sight. Because for the first time, Ciel doesn't look afraid. He looks… home.
I feel envy, jealous of their relationship having never had that type of closeness to anyone.
Their reunion is short-lived.
"Hey!"
The voice is gruff. Irritated.
I glance over and see a thick-bellied man stomping toward us from beside a beat-up taxi. His forehead's slick with sweat, shirt buttons straining, and he's pointing at me like I'm the one who jumped a fare.
"You look like you've got money," he snaps. "So why don't you pay his damn fare?"
I blink. "Excuse me?"
"That kid jumped in screaming about a truck—like he's some kind of undercover cop! Had me tailing you through half the damn city! Do you know what gas costs these days? Do you know how much stress this caused me? Financial loss, emotional trauma, lower back strain, and—" he hitches his pants up with a dramatic grunt, "—a slipped disc!"
I stare. Did he just diagnose himself mid-rant?
I glance at Nolan. He's standing right beside Ciel, hoodie tugged low like he's trying to disappear.
Sighing, pull a couple of crisp bills from my wallet, and hand them to the taxi driver—way more than the fare.
Money. The universal language.
The driver's tone flips instantly, his rant dissolving into grateful nods and muttered apologies as he scurries off.
Typical.
The two uniformed officers who'd been loitering nearby exchange a glance. One shrugs. "Looks like it's handled." Then they both stroll off, bored.
The little crowd that had gathered—nurses on smoke breaks, visitors with nothing better to do—disperses as quickly as it formed. A yawn here, a glance at a phone there, and life goes back to normal.
I turn back to Ciel and the beta.
Ciel's still holding Nolan's hand, fingers laced tight, like letting go might make him vanish.
Nolan, though? He's glaring daggers at me. Broad-shouldered, jaw tight, blue eyes stormy. He stands half in front of Ciel like a guard dog. Touch him and die.
Great.
"Yeah, let's go," I say, already walking toward the truck.
"We're not going with you," Nolan snaps.
I stop. Turn. Eyebrow raised.
Is this guy serious?
"Nolan—" Ciel starts gently, but the beta cuts him off.
"Thank you for the help," he says tightly, "but we'll pay you back and go our own way."
I blink at him.
The sarcastic retort climbs my throat, but I bite it back. Barely. Because I remember.
In Rose's draft, Nolan was always in love with Ciel. The childhood best friend. The silent protector. The one who'd bleed quietly for love, never chosen, always tragic. She even planned to cripple him down the line, just to clear the way for the main leads. Seriously Rose was on some insane shit and when I questioned her she said it's because it's angst.
Right now? He's not tragic. He's bristling. Defensive. In love.
And I'm the threat.
I take a breath, drop my voice. Calm. Steel. "Look. I'm just trying to help Ciel. You're free to come or not. I don't care about you—sorry, not sorry—but I do care about him as human being."
Nolan scoffs. Sharp. Bitter.
This little shit.
"Please," he mutters, arms crossed tight. "You don't need to care for Ciel. I've got him."
He squeezes Ciel's hand for emphasis.
I arch a brow.
"Okay. Fine," I say slowly. "Then I'll let you take him. Where to? The nearest alley? You got a plan? Shelter? Food? Medical care? Because from the way that taxi scene went down, it looked like you could barely afford the cab fare."
Nolan's jaw clenches. "That's none of your business."
"No, but Ciel's well-being is." My voice sharpens, cutting through the air. "He's a pregnant omega, Nolan. Do you have money for hospital bills? Supplements? Clothes? Hell, even prenatal vitamins?"
I step closer, not raising my voice, but letting the weight land heavy.
"Do you have the resources to keep him stable during heat surges? To keep him safe when rogue alphas catch his scent?"
I pause. Hold his gaze.
"Because I do. I can. I will."
Nolan flinches. His fists clench, knuckles white.
And Ciel—goddamn him—still clings to Nolan's sleeve.