Page 30 of Omega Hunted

He asked about the tightening I’d had for weeks. Dr. Kavanaugh, a beta woman with cold hands and even colder eyes, had called it ligament strain and dismissed it out of hand.

The pause this time was longer. “I would suggest that this is actually prodromal labor—common in the third trimester, more common in first pregnancies, and after trauma.”

That sounded bad. “Am I having my baby now?”

“No, it doesn’t mean birth is imminent, but in a cat shifter’s first pregnancy, progression from prodromal to active can compress significantly. More so after physical stress. I can’t predict by how much, though. Cat pregnancies are so damn rare, and less predictable than wolf pregnancies in the final weeks, and yours has complicating factors with the accident. I’m not telling you she’s coming tomorrow. I’m telling you the window could be eight weeks or three.”

Three weeks? Fuck.

My cat stirred and said nothing. Would the bridge be open by then? We were in the middle of winter, and the snow was never-ending, and I was up a mountain with no way out. Could I make it away? Would Cassian let me go? He’d promised, but what if I was left with no choice?

“What do I need to do to keep her safe?”

“Hydration. Rest. No strenuous activity.” He was moving through a list. “Someone with you around the clock for at least the next week. Not because I think delivery is happening now, but because when the symptoms shift, you’ll need someone present who can make the calls. Can we include Cassian in this conversation?”

“He’s in the other room. But I don’t…” I swallowed hard.

I didn’t want anyone else involved.

I’d spent years with strangers making decisions about my body, touching me without permission, discussing me as though I wasn’t standing right there. Every instinct I had screamed to keep everything locked down. Me. Asha. Our space. Ours. Safe.

The thought of anyone else knowing intimate things about my pregnancy made my stomach knot.

Even Cassian.

Especially Cassian.

Because every time he looked at me, my cat leaned toward him instead of away. Every time he came close, something inside me softened despite every lesson Center 14 had carved into me. I didn’t want to need him. Didn’t want to depend on another alpha. Didn’t want to wake up one morning and realize I’d handed him pieces of myself I’d never meant to lose.

But if something went wrong…

If Asha was in danger…

I couldn’t let my fear matter more than she did.

“It’s hard to have other people know about me,” I admitted quietly.

“I get it, and I totally support your right to privacy. I would just say that if you need help…”

Cassian was my only hope if something did happen. Brec was hours away and if Asha decided to come early, or I got sick, or something went wrong in the middle of the night, there wouldn’t be anyone else.

I closed my eyes for a second.

This wasn’t about me anymore. “I can get him.”

“Are you sure?”

I drew a steadying breath and squared my shoulders.

“Yes.” I glanced at the doorway. “Cassian,” I called and he was there fast, as if he’d been waiting. “Brec wants you.” I held it out. He crossed the kitchen, took it, pulled out the chair beside me—not opposite, beside—and sat down. I folded my hands in my lap and watched his face while Brec talked.

He was hard to read. His jaw shifted when Brec asked him questions that I could hear. His eyes went to the window, came back to me briefly, and moved away. He asked a question into the phone—short, one sentence—then another. His hand flattened on the table, braced. He nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said. “I understand… I know… I’ll get what’s on the list.” He listened. “Is there anything specific I should be watching for?” More listening. A small tightening at the corner of his mouth, quickly gone. “Understood. I’ll be in touch.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ll contact you if I need you.”

He went quiet, then ended the call even as I could still hear Brec talking and put the phone on the table.

I waited.