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“Are you okay, Bree?” he asked while holding my arm, steadying me. My head was spinning and I was suddenly wobbly on my feet.What the heck was happening to me?If I fell, the baby would be hurt, so I grabbed onto his shirt.
“No,” I said, stumbling again and holding onto him tighter.
“What are you feeling?” he asked worriedly, fishing his pocket for his cell phone.
“Dizzy, a little bit. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Zaff the baby.”
He started to dial a number on his phone, “This isn’t good. Hold on.”
“What are you doing?” I asked. My words were coming out slurred, and I was getting more alarmed.
“Calling the doctor,” he said. “Hello, Dr. Befram. My wife is feeling dizzy. She’s seven months pregnant.”
When he hung up, he immediately carried me down the rest of the stairs.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked, closing my eyes as I turned my head into his chest. The darkness of my vision was terrifying, and I held my pregnant belly protectively.
“Oscar, get a car ready,” he ordered his pack. “We need to take her to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“Fuck,” said Oscar, rushing out the door without question.
“What happened, Zaff?” asked Ruston in alarm.
“She’s dizzy, and we need to get her to the hospital before she goes unconscious,” explained Zaff while I kept my eyes closed. The light was hurting my eyes, and my chest was starting to feel heavy for some reason.
They soon shuffled me into a limo, and everything was a dark haze as I focused on the silver buttons on Zaff’s shirt.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I said, coughing. “I can barely sit up without feeling dizzy.”
“Relax, it’s okay,” said Zaff quickly. “We’re getting help. Sit tight, baby.”
The coughing was taking over my lungs as we drove to the hospital. I always had a cough, but it got worse with every minute. When we finally reached the hospital, the alphas rushed out of the limo with me in their arms.
My vision was getting blurry to my alarm, and I tried not to panic in Zaff’s arms.
“My wife is pregnant,” said Zaff to the nurse. “She’s very dizzy.”
The nurse took one look at me, and they put me in a wheelchair, rolling me to the labor and delivery room.
“She has the signs of preeclampsia,” the head nurse in charge said as she rolled my chair into a large operating room. “A c-section is needed, but it could also worsen her condition.”
“Please save the baby,” I gasped, closing my eyes when Ifelt the fluid in my lungs come to my throat again as I violently coughed.
“Breanna,” said Zaff, but I was slowly losing my sense of hearing as they transferred me onto the hospital bed.
“We will perform the c-section,” said the nurse. “We need to prep her before the doctor arrives.”
I tried to keep my eyes open and alert as the nurses hooked me up to several machines to monitor me. I was losing track of what was happening, and I was slowly starting to fade away to the beeping of the machines.
“Please save her,” said Zaff, his voice sounding like it was coming from a tunnel as I passed out.
I wokeup to the shrill cry of a newborn. Opening my eyes, I looked around me, confused as Oscar and Zaff peered into my face with concern in their eyes. But all I could focus on was the beautiful cry of my baby, who I carried for nine months.
“She’s awake,” shouted Oscar, and I heard cheering.
In front of me was a blue barrier separating me from my child.
“The baby,” I croaked, looking at Oscar, who was nearest to me. “Where’s our baby?”
