Alyssa

At the hospital, the nurses whisk my babies away for the routine tests that should've been done as soon as they were born.

Still, my chest tightens when they're rolled out of the room.

I know it's standard. Necessary—especially considering the way they made their grand entrance on the floor of a motorcycle club—but that doesn't make it easier. It feels like someone's peeling pieces of me off my bones and wheeling them down the hallway.

King and Mason follow ...