Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King novel Chapter 122

CHAPTER 122

CHAPTER 122

The ultrasound gel is cold. That’s the first thing I feel–goopy, slimy, wet as hell–and somehow it’s the one sensation that cuts through the chaos in my head.

I never thought the first time I’d hear the word pregnant in relation to myself, it’d come from a doctor with a Russian accent, wearing a lab coat that smelled faintly of wolfsbane and old garlic.

“Breathe,” the doctor says. Not kindly. More like he’s annoyed that I’m holding my bath like a damn rookie, which, to be fair, I am. At this. At everything.

My hands are gripping the sides of the exam table, trying to hold myself together. As if I won’t shatter into pieces the second I let go. Seraphina’s standing near the door, arms crossed, chewing gum like she owns the place. Of course she knows this sketchy little hybrid doctor working out of the back of a cosmetic clinic in Rome. Of course she fucking does. “Four weeks,” he says as if it’s not a fucking bomb that just went off inside my body. “But the embryo’s growth suggests accelerated development. Possibly four and a half.” He glances at me, then Seraphina. “Are you an… Omega?”

I blink at him, the fluorescent light above buzzing like it’s got something to say too. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re lucky she got you in,” he says, eyes flicking from me to the monitor, where the faintest flicker of life pulses on the screen. “Most wolves don’t pick up shifter pregnancies this early.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

He sighs, clicking something on the keyboard. “It means this kid’s strong. Too strong. That heartbeat isn’t supposed to register for another two weeks, minimum. And that,”–he jabs the screen-“that’s a dominant aura. You feel sick lately? Migraines? Nausea so bad it feels like food’s just… wrong?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Also almost got murdered last week, but sure, let’s focus on the vomit.”

Seraphina snorts from the corner. The gum cracks. “She’s dramatic. Always has been.”

I flip her off without looking. “So what now? Do I die, or…?”

“You don’t die,” he says flatly. “Unless you do something stupid. Like stress yourself out. Or keep working a high–pressure job while your wolf’s already struggling to keep up with the hormonal load. Small wolves aren’t built for this kind of pregnancy. Not with a fetus this dominant. You’re looking at premature birth. Four to five months, tops. If your body can even hold on that long.”

“I… really can’t do anything?” I stammer. He sighs like I just asked him why rain is wet. “Listen, that’s not a normal pregnancy. That is a Lycan’s offspring inside of you. Strong. Growing faster than your body can keep up.”

My stomach flips. That’s not morning sickness. That’s dread.

Because that strong heartbeat pulsing like war drums on the monitor? That’s his. Enoch’s. And mine.

A kid that was never supposed to exist, pounding into life as if it knows it’s a fucking miracle.

“Fuck,” I whisper. My throat burns.

“Language,” Seraphina mutters, even though she’s probably the reason I swear as much as I do.

“Shut up,” I snap.

The doctor hands me a paper towel and turns off the screen like that’s it. Like he didn’t just dump a bomb on my uterus and call it a day. “No work. No stress. You stay home, you rest, and if your wolf pushes back, you tell her tough shit.”

Eris, inside me, snarls like a feral thing. ‘He’s out of his goddamn mind if he thinks I’m letting you die for a fucking paycheck. I clench my jaw and wipe my stomach, still cold and wet and fucking trembling.

Seraphina shifts beside me, all her usual smugness gone for once. “Taryn, he’s not fucking around. I’ve seen Omegas with Alphas‘ kids before and this-” she motions at the screen, “-this is a goddamn suicide mission if you don’t take it easy.” “I’m fine, Ser,” I mutter, pulling my shirt down and sliding off the hospital bed. The paper crinkles beneath me, like it’s laughing. “I’m not gonna turn into glass just because I’ve got a damn parasite in me.”

She scoffs. “Parasite? Girl, that parasite’s got claws. And probably a temper.”

The image of Enoch’s green eyes flashes behind my lids like a curse. Fuck.

“Listen,” the doctor continues, tapping at some notes. “You will need a physician that understands your physiology. A hybrid of wolf and human medicine. And no stress. No fighting. No pack politics. No Alpha males, period.”

“Great. I’ll just live under a rock, then.” I grab my hoodie from the chair. “You selling any of those here?” Ser grabs my arm before I make it to the door. “Taryn. Be serious. You’re not going back to work.”

I glare at her. “You don’t get to tell me what to do just because you’re suddenly a six–figure secretary with a city view and

1/5

CHAPTER 122

too much lipstick.”

“I make enough to house five damn kids and still buy Chanel, don’t test me, she shoots back with a smirk. “You can stay at mine. Rent–free.”

“No.”

“Taryn-”

“I said no. I’m not a charity case, Ser.”

She crosses her arms. “You’re pregnant. With a Lycan. That’s not charity, that’s survival. Stop being so goddamn stubborn.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling through my teeth. “I’ll pay rent. I’ll clean. I’ll cook. I’ll work part–time. I don’t care. I’m not just gonna–mooch off you.”

She doesn’t argue anymore. Just rolls her eyes. “Fine. You can be your usual prideful self in the guest room. But if you so much as mop the floor, I swear I’ll drown you in bleach.”

Back at Seraphina’s apartment, I’m silent.

The kind of silence that makes even her uncomfortable. She fumbles with the key, drops it once, curses under her breath and finally pushes the door open like the whole world is pressing against it.

“I told you you could stay as long as you want,” she says as we step inside. It smells like roses and espresso and the faintest trace of that perfume she always used to wear that made me want to sneeze.

“I need to work.” I sigh.

“You need to not die, idiot.”

I walk past her, into the guest room she made up for me with lavender sheets and blackout curtains and some overpriced essential oil diffuser humming in the corner. It’s too cozy. Too soft. Like it’s hers, not mine. Like I’m some lost little girl she’s letting crash at her place because my life blew up and I’ve got nowhere else to go.

Which, yeah. I guess is fair.

I sit on the bed and just breathe for a second. My hand rests against my stomach. Flat. Still invisible. Still nothing, really.

Except it’s everything now.

But for how long?

If he knew…

Eris stirs in my head, her voice sharp as flint.

“Don’t even finish that thought.”

“What if he-”

“No.”

Her voice is fiercer now, more animal than usual. “You put us through hell for that man. You died for him, bled for him, lost everything. If you let him take this child from us, I swear, Taryn…”

I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Eris-”

“I’ll shut you out. Forever.”

Silence. Then softer, breaking.

“This baby is ours now. Not his. He left us. Twice.”

She’s right.

He’ll think I did it on purpose. Like I used this baby to chain him. And he’ll hate me for it. Maybe even hate this baby.

No. I won’t let him.

No matter how much it kills me.

***

I curl onto my side, hand still on my stomach, and stare at the wall for what feels like hours.

When I finally pick up my phone, my hands are shaking.

I dial Zoe.

It rings.

And rings.

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CHAPTER 122

Then-

“Holy shit, Taryn?!” she answers. “Where the hell have you been? Are you alive? Are you in jail? Everyone is fucking panicking!”

I let out a shaky breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

More silence.

Then, “You’re fucking what?!”

I press the heel of my palm into my eye, suddenly exhausted. “You heard me.”

Her voice drops. “Is it-?”

“Yeah. It’s his.”

“Oh my God. Taryn. Taryn. Where are you? Where are you? Are you safe? Tell me where you are, please, I’ll come to you-”

“No,” I say, quiet but firm. “I’m fine. I just… needed you to know. But I can’t say where I am. Not yet.”

“Taryn-”

“I mean it. Don’t ask.”

She goes quiet again, then exhales. “You okay?”

I close my eyes.

Am I?

“I don’t know.” The truth tastes like rust on my tongue. “But I’m trying to be.”

I hang up before I break.

The room is quiet again.

My hand stays on my belly.

And for the first time in days, I let myself cry. Just a little.

Just enough.

***

Ser’s halfway out the door in her blood–red pantsuit and heels that could shatter bones when I stumble into the kitchen. I barely slept. My head’s pounding, my tits hurt, and everything smells like betrayal and bacon grease.

“You made breakfast?” I croak, dragging my hand across my face as I eye the kitchen counter like it personally offended me.

She flinches mid–step like I just asked her to commit tax fraud. “I did. For you. It’s in the microwave. You’re not coming with me.”