Alpha's Hidden Precious Luna-Chapter 114

Lily POV

The moment Kai pressed the button, everything moved in a blur.

Within seconds, the room was flooded with pack doctors and nurses, all rushing toward the bed where the she-wolf lay conscious now. Her eyes were open but she didn’t seem to be staring at anywhere or anyone in particular.

I stepped back, pressing myself against the wall, watching with my heart in my throat as they worked on her. My heart was pounding in my chest, but not as loudly as Kai’s anxious breaths beside me.

The doctor barked out orders while the nurses scrambled to respond. At first, everything seemed under control—until the she-wolf’s body began to jerk violently. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her limbs convulse, her back arching unnaturally off the bed. The machines started beeping erratically, their beeping sounds filling the air like an alarm warning of a disaster about to come.

Kai was at her side in an instant. “What’s happening to her?” he demanded, his voice was thick with desperation. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

One of the nurses reached out and caught his arm before he could get any closer. “Alpha, please,” she pleaded, her voice strained but professional. “Can you wait outside for a bit? We don’t want you to distract the doctor.”

Kai’s entire body tensed, his golden eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “I’m not leaving her,” he growled, his grip tightening on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Alpha,” the nurse insisted, a hint of urgency in her tone, “Please, it’s both for her good as well as yours.”

Kai clenched his jaw, his muscles visibly coiling with tension, but after a long, excruciating pause, he let out a shuddering breath and stepped back. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. I hesitated for a moment, but when he shot me a glare, I quickly followed. As soon as the door shut behind us, he let out a frustrated growl and ran his hands through his hair, and started pacing the corridor.

Five steps one way, turn, five steps back. The pattern became almost hypnotic as the minutes ticked by.

I stood there, silent, watching my mate break.

I felt like an intruder in this moment. His distress was so glaring – I could feel it filling the corridor.

Never in my life did I think I would see Kai like this—so unguarded and in so much pain. His usual aura that was the reason everyone though he was ruthless, his confident arrogance, all of it was gone. What remained was raw, unfiltered emotion. He was barely keeping himself together, and I could only watch.

Nurses moved in and out of the room. Every time the door opened, he’d lunge forward, with desperation on his face, hoping for news, only to be met with hurrying nurses who brushed past without a word.  No one answered him.

Again and again, the nurses ignored him. With each passing second, Kai became more anxious. At this point, his agitation was so obvious that he was minutes away from storming into the room.

He slammed his fist against the corridor wall, his breathing ragged. “Damn it! Someone talk to me!”

Still, no answer.

“Please,” he begged one nurse who came out carrying an empty IV bag. “Just tell me what’s happening.”

“We’re on it, Alpha,” she hurried past without meeting his eyes.

My mind wandered back to our earlier conversation, to his confession about the déjà vu, to Luna Helen’s warnings. Watching him now, seeing how deeply this woman’s condition affected him even without his memories, made my stomach twist into knots. Would he ever react this strongly for me? Would he ever feel this depth of emotion if I were the one lying in that hospital bed?

I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the hem of my sweater. I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation in the room before this chaos erupted. Kai had promised me that I was his only mate. He had sworn to me that whatever connection he felt to this woman was something beyond his understanding. But as I watched him now, falling apart over her, I couldn’t stop the poisonous thought that crept into my mind:

Would Kai ever love me the way he loved her?

I had never seen him like this, not even when we fought.

The minutes stretched into an hour. Kai’s pacing never ceased. Occasionally, he’d punch the wall in frustration, leaving small craters in the plaster. I wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how. What do you say to someone who’s experiencing grief for a person they don’t even remember loving?

Then, finally, the door opened, and the pack doctor stepped out. His face was weary, the lines on his forehead deeper than before. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, and there was something in his eyes that made my stomach drop. The look in his eyes said everything he wanted to say in words.

Kai was on him in an instant. “Tell me she’s okay,” he demanded, “Tell me she’s going to wake up.”

The doctor exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face before shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Alpha Kai,” he said gravely. “But we lost her.”

For a moment, everything went perfectly still-like the world itself was holding its breath.

And then Kai broke.

There’s no other way to describe it. The anguished roar that tore from his throat was primal, raw, filled with a pain so deep it made my wolf whimper in response. His fist went through the wall this time, and when he pulled it back, his knuckles were bloody.

“No,” he gasped. “No, no, NO! She can’t be gone!”

“Alpha...” the doctor murmured.

“You said she was doing fine, yesterday. That she was responding to treatment well. No, you’re lying. She can’t be – you have to go back in there. You have to try again!”

The doctor stepped forward, reaching for him, but Kai shoved him away with enough force to send him stumbling. "Alpha, please-"

"Don’t!" Kai’s voice cracked. "Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Just... Just fix this!"

He looked like a man who had lost everything.

The nurses and the doctor stood back, giving him space, but no one dared to speak. What could they say? What comfort could they offer an Alpha who had just lost something—or someone—irreplaceable?

I just stood there. Watching. Feeling nothing but a hollow ache in my chest.

I should have gone to him. I should have told him it was going to be okay.

Instead, I stood there helplessly, tears streaming down my face. Not just for the woman we’d lost, but for Kai, for the pain he was experiencing without even understanding why it cut so deep. For the memories he’d lost, the love that had been stolen from him.

His legs gave out and he slid down the wall, his head in his hands. The sobs that wracked his body were unlike anything I’d ever heard from him-deep sounds of pure agony.

I wanted to go to him, to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. But I couldn’t move. Because in that moment, watching him grieve for her, I realized something that broke my heart: sometimes love doesn’t need memories to exist. Sometimes it lives in the spaces between heartbeats, in the silent chambers of the soul, waiting to be remembered.

And as I stood there, watching the man I loved fall apart over another woman, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever truly had his heart at all. Or if it had always belonged to her, even when neither of them remembered why.