Sinclair and I gasped simultaneously, my eyes snapping open to meet his. We froze, then another cry pierced the air, jolting us into action. We bolted through the forest, searching for our son.

“Rafe!” I cried, my voice desperate as Sinclair, with his long legs, pulled ahead. “Rafe, baby! We’re coming!”

Rafe’s cries grew louder, stronger—the unmistakable sound of a baby crying real tears. Then, something caught my eye. I skidded to a halt, veering left while Sinclair continued on.

And suddenly, I saw it: a bassinet, sitting alone in the middle of the forest. I knew my baby was inside. “Dominic!” I called, wanting him by my side, but I didn't wait. I hurried to the bassinet, gripping its edge and peering inside.

And then—

There he was.

My baby boy, my pup, my child—looking exactly as I knew he would, not as I'd imagined, but as I knew.

Breathless and speechless, I reached for my child, who mewled softly in his little bed, swaddled in a clean white blanket. Slowly, gently, I lifted him into my arms, gazing at him as I heard heavy footsteps behind me.

“Ell—” Sinclair began, but stopped, his mouth falling open as he took in the sight of us—mother and child. I barely glanced at him, my gaze fixed on my son.

“Hey, baby,” I murmured, my throat choked with joy and tears. “Hey, baby Rafe. We’ve been looking for you.” I began to rock and bounce him, soothing him, letting him feel my presence, letting him know I was here, that I was sorry, and that I loved him with all my being.

Sinclair took a few steps closer. I tilted the still-crying baby toward him, letting my mate see his son. I watched Sinclair choke back tears. I was shocked, but not surprised, to see tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, kid,” he began, his voice wavering, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out. He hesitated, pulling his hand back.

“What?” I asked, laughing softly. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s just so tiny,” Sinclair marveled, shaking his head and staring at our son's perfect porcelain skin and little mop of black hair. “If I touch him, I’ll crush him…”

My laughter jostled the baby, causing him to fuss and hiccup. I shook my head at Sinclair.

“He’s your son, Dominic. You won’t hurt him. You won’t let yourself.” Hesitantly, Dominic touched the tip of his finger to Rafe’s cheek.

“Hey, Rafe,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re so excited for you. We’ve got big plans.”

I smiled down at my baby, unable to tear myself away, then looked up at Sinclair and fell in love with him all over again, seeing the hope, joy, and wholeness in his eyes as he saw his son for the first time.

“Here,” I offered, holding the baby out. “Do you want to hold him?”

Sinclair looked at me, startled, and shook his head. “Ella—he’s so small—”

I laughed softly, secretly pleased by his refusal. I never wanted to put this baby down; I wanted to hold him forever. Sinclair stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both of us, encircling us with his warmth, protection, and love. In that moment, I felt complete, blessed to share this with my mate and son.

Rafe quieted, breathing more deeply, blinking sleepily at us with his grey infant eyes, which I knew would someday turn green like his father’s.

“You’re going to grow up to be so big and strong,” I whispered, rocking him close. “And we can’t wait to watch you do it.”

“We need you to be strong, buddy,” Sinclair whispered, his voice breaking. “Just hold on. Your mama’s going to carry you, and keep you safe.”

“We’re so sorry,” I whispered, tears welling up at the thought of my baby’s suffering. No wonder he had hidden, shrinking from the horrors of the world. “It will be different now—it will be safe and good—you’re my only job now. We love you so much.”

“Hold on, baby,” Sinclair murmured, stroking Rafe’s little hand, which had just emerged from its swaddling. “Just…hold on.” Rafe’s tiny hand uncurled, attempting to grasp his father’s finger.

Tears streamed down my face as I looked between the two men who were my world. But the dream began to fade.

“I think we’re out of time,” I said to Sinclair, holding my baby tight.

He nodded, understanding. All dreams end, even perfect ones. He quickly turned my face to his, kissing me. I savored the perfect fit of our lips, but he pulled away too soon.

“Come back to me,” he demanded, his eyes serious, almost glaring. “You come back to me, Ella. Wake up. As soon as you can.”

“I will,” I promised. “I’m coming back to you. We both are.”

Sinclair started to speak, but the dream vanished, leaving only mist.

Sinclair

I sat bolt upright the moment I gasped awake, the dream vivid in my mind. I spun to Ella, desperately searching for her smile, the flash of her eyes—

But…

I blinked, uncomprehending, realizing she hadn’t woken with me. She lay still, breathing shallowly, her pulse a slow tick on the monitors.

“Good, you’re up.”

The doctor’s voice startled me. I spun toward him, ready to attack, but stopped myself.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, raising an apologetic hand. “I shouldn’t have startled you. I apologize.”

I calmed myself before looking at Ella again. “Is she alright?” I asked. “I met her in the dream—I was expecting her to…”

“Is that what you were doing?” The doctor asked, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting.” He looked at the monitors. “She did display some increased brain activity…which isn’t a bad thing…”

His hesitation told me it wasn’t entirely good.

“The baby?” I demanded, my voice low with frustration. Damn it, I’d truly thought that would work…

“The same,” the doctor said, indicating the fetal heart rate monitor.

I buried my face in my hands. What else could I do?

A hand on my shoulder made me flinch, but I didn’t shrug it off. The doctor was doing his best to save them, to bring them back to me.

“Her body is too weak,” the doctor said softly. “Even if you contacted her in the dream, even if she wants to come back, her body may not let her. Not yet. It’s…it’s in the hands of the goddess now.”

Despair threatened, but then I realized something. It was in the Goddess’s hands—and the Goddess had a gift to give. I knew who held that gift.

“Call her,” I growled, glaring at the doctor.

“Who?” he asked, flinching.

“Cora,” I replied, “Ella’s sister. Get her here now.”