Samantha
Sitting in the safe room was worse than torture for me. My instincts were telling me to go fight beside Holden, but I knew that I couldn’t. I was still bleeding and in pain from just giving birth to my daughter. I look at her as she sleeps in a little bassinet beside me.
“It will be okay,” Mom tells me. She is beside me on the cot.
The nurses and other hospital workers are huddled a few feet away. They all look weary as we wait. Tricia and Melinda went to do what I should be doing: gathering pack members and ensuring everyone was in the safe houses.
Mom pats my knee.
“I hate this,” I mutter. “I should be out there doing what Tricia and Melinda are doing.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Mom sighed. “Your whole body is telling you, right?” She says, and I nod. “It’s hard, but someti
