Misconceptions.

Blaire:

I was watching Emmett try everything she knew to revive the innocent-looking little boy who lay on the operating table with horrifying bruises and deep gashes slashed on his chest. He looked like he had encountered a beast, and it did not show any mercy on him.

His swollen left eye had deep cuts and scratches trailing down to his cheeks. His forehead wasn't spared either. His right index finger was badly broken, as were three ribs in his chest and his left leg. I couldn't understand why his blood was so black, nor could I understand the pungent and choking smell that came from it. The complicated stench alone was making me lightheaded and a little sick.

Doctor Miller was looking so stressed as he administered yet another injection into the body, carefully watching the heart monitor, which hadn't changed its waves positively.

Emmett was applying pressure to the hole she had created at the corner of his stomach, purging him of the contaminated blood, according to what they've said. She was muttering some strange words, and I believed whatever she was doing was resulting in green veins bulging on his skin. She looked like she was on edge, and the blood that was spraying on her wasn't helping matters.

Miller stepped back a little, rubbing his forehead with his hands as beads of sweat formed on his head. I really pitied him because I could see that, minus not ending up on the receiving end of London's rage, he also didn't want to lose a patient, much less a little one at that.

The auburn-haired nurse approached Doctor Miller and whispered something to him. Her nose mask and gloves were stained with dark blood. Miller nodded and gestured for Emmett, who was dressed like a doctor performing surgery. In fact, we all were.

The scene unfolding in front of me was filling me with tension. The thick suspense and tension that sat in the air didn't help matters at all. The loud beeping from the heart monitor, our feet shuffling against the floor, and the sound of utensils being dropped onto trays, plus instructions from Miller every now and then, were the only sounds I could hear.

I backed away a little, falling under pressure from the stress I was putting myself through emotionally. I suddenly saw Sinclair's botched face looking at me, his injured body replacing the kid's own. I gasped, nearly losing my balance. The scenario was reminding me of the day I dreaded the most; it was triggering my trauma and putting me into hyperventilation.

A high-pitched ringing set off in my ears as my screams from that day echoed in my head. I instantly felt the need to throw up because I was suddenly feeling sick. A sharp pain sliced my lower belly, and I doubled over, wrapping my hands around my stomach.

"It's not happening again... It's not happening again." I kept chanting to myself.

"Hey." Emmett brushed her hands over my shoulders, her attention divided between glancing at the boy and me. "You good?" She finally asked, deciding to focus her eyes on me.

I nodded briefly, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. "I'm fine."

"You sure? You look really pale." She asked.

"I am… I'm just a little dizzy from the whole thing, you know." I nodded partly because I was trying to convince myself too.

She nodded in understanding, wiping her hands against the towel that I had handed her. "It got too much for you, didn't it?"

I nodded, blowing out air in exasperation. "I just don't understand what happened to him. He looks so young… Who could have done this to him?"

"He's been overdosing on some messed-up drugs, and they're fucking him up. His body is rejecting the drugs we are administering, and I'm having to result in certain healing spells that I know to see if I can reverse the effects a little." She sighed, eyeing the boy.

"I never knew you could use magic." I was honestly surprised.

She turned to me, "herbs have potentials that are far beyond understanding. The more you blend with nature, the more nature opens up to you. You just have to listen to the plants you're using, and when you do, you can communicate what they're telling you. It's how it works for me, and being a seer makes it easier to understand and see far beyond what a normal eye can see. The closer I am to Gaia and Tiresias, the more my powers work."

"Lycans have the ability to draw power from the ancestors our powers are related to. That's why every Lycan's wolf is very different." She smiled warmly at me, but I couldn't help wondering why she'd never told me that she was a wolf whisperer—whatever that meant.

I blinked at her. Wow, I never knew things were so different here. I knew Lycans were superior to wolves, but I never knew it would be to this extent.

"So you can't use magic without herbs." I asked just to be sure I understood what she was saying.

"In a way, yeah."

I nodded again, bringing my eyes to watch doctor Miller exhaust himself trying to keep the boy's heart beating.

I was curious to know why the Alpha wanted that boy alive. Perhaps he rescued him? That thought was almost inconceivable and sounded so impossible. But then again, no one would see a child in such a critical condition and not help him. Maybe he did have a heart.

I might have come to that conclusion, but it never answered the question that remained on my mind: was that really all there was to London so desperately wanting him alive? He and Fuyu looked ready to pounce on Miller when he broke the news of his critical condition to him. I perceived another motive, but I couldn't place my hands on it.

Another question on my mind was his relationship to the boy. They both had dark black hair, and considering his reaction to his condition, I gasped. Could that kid belong to London? No, no, no, no. London can't be a father; he'd tell me if he had a child, right?

"Like you're telling him about his twin babies, right?" Hera's sarcastic reply knocked me off my high horse.

She had surrendered control to me when London and Fuyu left. According to her, she needed to sleep. I swear, that wolf sleeps more than I can handle.

How hypocritical could I be? Nevertheless, it didn't stop me from defending my decision.

"He'd probably tear out the babies from my womb if he found out. I'm not saying I'm never going to tell him; I'm just saying–"

She cut me off: "You can't keep judging him on assumption. Yes, London and Fuyu are not the easiest to deal with, but they still deserve to know. Tell him first, and from his reaction, we'll know the next step. If you don't tell him, he'll find out sooner or later regardless."

My heart was shaking. "And w-what if he doesn't accept them?" It was a horrifying thought.

She sighed, raising her head to rub against my subconscious,"like I promised, I'd support you in any step you take, but you have to tell him. If you don't, perhaps I will."

I was shocked at her sound, which was so serious, and I knew I shouldn't take her words as a bluff because she'd actually do it. I sighed, wiping my hands on a towelette. I thought back to the child, and my heart squeezed. Was that why he rejected me? Because he had another woman he was interested in? I shook the thoughts out of my head. London did not look like the type to care about that. Sex? Yes. A love interest? No.

The door suddenly banged open, and my mouth dropped at the sight I was faced with. Beside the door was a rugged and ragged-looking London. His hand on the door stabilized his position, reducing his stagger. He was breathing hard with a bloody hand holding onto an ancient-looking book.

He nearly fell while making his way into the room but managed to hold his balance. His shirt was barely worthy of being called a shirt, and neither were his pants because they were tattered and ripped. Blood stained his chest and hands. His face wasn't spared from the blood stains, either. His messy hair was spiked in every direction, and gone were the ashen color and red eyes. His appearance was no longer like that of a monster. Gashes and bruises were scattered all over his body, but he kept moving.

He looked tired, and I knew he was in pain, even if he wasn't going to show it. Dr. Miller rushed to him with a worried look on his face. He arrived in time to catch him and stop him from collapsing on the floor. His feet held bruises, cuts, and scratches. What happened to him to make him look like that? He was in very bad shape.

"My Alpha, what happened to you?" Miller could barely hold on to him.

He dug out a tiny purple flower from his pocket and raised in a torpid voice, "u-use it before it blooms."

His heavy pants echoed in the room as he began excusing himself. His eyes landed on me, and I could have sworn I saw a red flash in them. "Make sure you save him."

I heard him say, but I wasn't sure who that was meant for because Emmett was standing right next to me. But that didn't explain why his eyes were on me when he said it.

He merely made it to the door when he collapsed on the floor with a heavy thud. My heart broke, and a tear slipped down my cheeks. He was going out of character for this boy. Why? He put himself in bad shape just to find a freaking flower that would save him.

Unbelievable.

But he couldn't stop me from getting whipped. Just who exactly was that child to London?

I couldn't take the negative emotions that flooded me. I knew it was wrong to think like that towards an innocent child, but I couldn't help it. I was carrying his children, suffering every day, but he never showed an iota of care.

"Forgive me, but goodness, I hate you so much, London. I hate you."

I quietly excused myself, running down the hallway to find the nearest bathroom. I needed a breather. I needed space to think.

"Stop it, Blaire; there's more to this than you thi–"

"Not now, Hera, okay? I don't want to hear you right now, so just leave me alone."