The Decision

Levi’s POV

The moment the doctor mentioned termination, something in my chest twisted. None of us said a word. We just stood there, silent, emotionless. My eyes stayed fixed on Anita. She looked so weak on that bed, barely holding on. I didn’t want to be here, but I couldn’t leave either.

Two nurses returned with equipment while a doctor wheeled over a small machine. One nurse gently pulled up Anita’s dress and applied a clear gel over her stomach. It made a soft squelching sound as she rubbed it in with a gloved hand. Anita didn’t move. She wasn’t conscious, but she looked too tired to react.

“She’s stable enough for the ultrasound now,” the doctor said quietly. “We’ll check the babies.”

Babies. The word made my chest tighten again. These might be our babies. Louis and Lennox stood silently beside me. We were all watching, but none of us said a word.

The nurse pressed the probe against Anita’s belly, and after a few seconds, black-and-white images flickered on the monitor.

“Come closer,” the doctor said softly. “You’ll want to see this.”

At first, we hesitated, exchanging glances. “Alphas? You don’t want to come check?” the doctor asked again. We looked at each other before stepping forward, slowly.

And then we saw them. Two small shapes, curled up, still developing—but clearly there. Two tiny, flickering heartbeats on the screen, their lives pulsing with every second.

“Three,” the doctor confirmed. “They’re about three months along.”

I felt my throat go dry. My hands clenched into fists.

“They don’t look healthy, but they can survive,” the doctor continued, eyes focused on the screen. “But one of them… this one here…” He pointed to the smaller figure. “This one’s a little weaker. The heartbeat is slower. That’s the one we’re most concerned about.”

“What are the chances?” Lennox asked, his voice low, tinged with worry.

The doctor didn’t answer. Instead, the healers stepped forward, placing their hands gently over Anita’s stomach. They began murmuring softly, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic chant. The room went still again, heavy with tension.

Then one of the healers, the older woman, looked up and spoke. “Alphas, if you want these pups to survive… you have to mark her.”

My brows furrowed. “She already has our mark,” I said—though deep down, I knew that wasn’t what she meant.

The healer shook her head. “No. That mark is shallow. You marked her as a concubine… not a mate.”

Lennox cursed under his breath. Louis looked away.

“And that mark,” she continued, “was meant to keep your Luna from feeling pain when you laid with this woman. You know that.”

We knew.

“She carries your children,” the healer said, “but her body is not connected to yours through a mate bond. There is no strength flowing between you. Her womb can’t carry your strong pups.”

My stomach turned.

“So what are you saying?” Louis asked tightly, sounding like he already knew where this conversation was heading.

The healer looked between us. “If you want to save these pups… if you want them to live… all of you must mark her again. As a mate, this time. A true bond. The mate bond will give her strength to carry your pups.”

There was a long pause. Then, in perfect unison, the three of us spoke. “No.”

It was loud. And it was firm.

The healer didn’t argue. She looked as if she had expected this response. She only nodded, slowly.

“Then prepare yourselves,” she said calmly. “Because without that bond… the babies may not make it.”

Silence swallowed the room again. I looked at the screen. Two tiny shapes. One flickering more faintly than the other. And I felt it—that cruel, quiet fear crawling in again. Not for Anita. But for what we had helped create.

We didn’t want this. We never planned for it. But they were now here. And fate was asking us to choose. Either we mark Anita as our mate, or they die!

“Then we are prepared to let them die,” Lennox spat, his voice cold, sharp, emotionless.

I swallowed hard and turned to look at him. He wasn’t wrong. It was the right decision. No matter what the healer said, we couldn’t bond with Anita—not like that. Not for a pregnancy we couldn’t even be sure was ours. And even if they were our children, even if they carried our blood… We would never lose Olivia over this.

But still… I looked back at the screen. At the tiny flickering heartbeats. My jaw clenched, my throat tightening with something I didn’t want to name. Was this what it felt like—father instincts? That dull ache in your chest when you see something small and fragile that might belong to you?

I didn’t want it. I didn’t ask for it. But it was there.

“Please…” a soft, hoarse voice broke the silence. “Please… they’re yours…”

We turned to see Anita, barely conscious, but her eyes glistened with tears as she struggled to speak. Her lips trembled, and her fingers reached toward us weakly. “They’re yours,” she said again, her voice cracking. “You know they are…”

Louis shifted beside me, his jaw tight.

“I can feel them,” she whispered. “They react to your voices… to your energy. In another month, you’ll feel it too. You’ll know it. Please… don’t let them die… don’t be heartless…”

She began to cry, her face twisting in pain and desperation. “I didn’t plan this either. I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did. And now they’re here… and they deserve a chance to live…”

Her words made something twist in my gut again. But I looked at Lennox, then Louis. And I knew—we all knew. That no matter what she said, no matter how bad it felt, we couldn’t do what the healer asked.

“We’re not marking you,” Louis said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “That’s final.”

Anita sobbed harder, her body trembling.

Lennox turned to the doctor. “Are you going to terminate the pregnancy now?”

The doctor glanced at the healers, then stepped forward. “No. Not yet. There’s still a chance—however small—that the babies might survive without the bond. Her body is weak, but not beyond saving.”

He looked at us seriously. “We’ll monitor her. Around the clock. If things worsen again, we’ll step in. But for now, we hold on and hope.”

I nodded slowly, even though my heart still felt like it was sinking in my chest. “Do what you can,” I said quietly.

Without another word, we turned and left the room. We didn’t look back. But as the door shut behind us, I couldn’t shake the image of those two little flickering heartbeats. And no matter how hard I tried… I couldn’t stop wondering if one day we’d regret this. If one day, we’d remember this moment—and realize we had let our own blood die.