New York Presbyterian Hospital, 12:37 p.m.
The automatic doors hadn't even finished opening when the gurney exploded through them.
"Male, thirty-two, silver poisoning! Deep chest wound! BP sixty over twenty and dropping!"
Ryan lay on the stretcher like a corpse someone forgot to tell it was dead.
Skin gray-white, lips blue, black veins spidering out from the knife wound.
They didn't slow down for us.
A nurse threw out an arm and caught me across the chest.
"Family stays here!"
"Let me go!" I screamed, clawing at her.
"Clear the way! Coming through!"
They crashed through the double doors into the trauma bay.
Leo's tiny hand was ice in mine. He was shaking so hard his teeth chattered.
The overhead speaker cracked to life.
"Code Blue, Trauma One. Code Blue."
The sound of the defibrillator charging—a high-pitched whine—cut straight through my bones.
Leo made a broken sound and curled into me, the bloody wolf pendant clenched in his fist so tightly the chain had cut his palm.
I carried him to the furthest plastic chair in the waiting area and sat, rocking him like he was still a baby.
Time stopped working.
Every second lasted a year.
I stared at the red Trauma doors and saw only one thing on repeat:
Ryan's body twisting, taking the silver meant for our son.
The way his eyes had found mine across the grass, calm, certain, already saying goodbye.
He didn't hesitate.
Not for a single second.
Leo's voice was barely air. "Mommy… is Daddy going to heaven?"
I pressed my lips to his hair, tasting blood and grass and terror.
"No, baby." My voice cracked but I forced it steady. "He's an Alpha. Alphas don't get to leave when we still need them. He's fighting right now. For us."
Leo nodded against my neck, trusting me because five-year-olds still believe mothers can fix anything.
I tried to wipe the blood from his hands with my sleeve.
He jerked away.
"No! It's Daddy's!"
He opened his fist just enough to show me the silver wolf pendant, now smeared red.
I stopped trying.
Hours bled away.
People came and went. Police. Reporters. Ryan's warriors who had finally tracked us down.
Marcus, Ryan's head of security, stepped in front of me, using his massive body to block a prying camera lens from the hallway.
"Don't worry, Ma'am," he growled low enough so only I could hear. "We've seized the park footage. The police are on the payroll. The official story is a gas leak explosion. No one will know about the wolves."
I nodded numbly. I didn't care about the masquerade. I didn't care if the world burned. I only cared about the man dying inside.
At 6:18 p.m. the trauma doors opened again.
A tall older doctor walked out. Gray hair. Tired yellow eyes. Werewolf.
He pulled the mask down and looked straight at me.
"Ms. Voss?"
I stood, Leo asleep against my shoulder, dead weight.
The doctor's face was carved from bad news.
"We got the blade out. No major vessels severed.
But the silver reached his heart. It's… burning him from the inside."
My knees buckled. I locked them.
"Will he live?"
"The next twenty-four hours will tell. If his heart stops again, we may not get it back."
He hesitated.
"You can see him. Five minutes. Just… prepare the pup."
I carried Leo through the doors.
The ICU smelled like death trying to be sterile.
Ryan lay in the center bed, surrounded by machines that hissed and beeped and kept him breathing.
Tubes everywhere. Chest wrapped in white.
The proud, terrifying Alpha reduced to wires and bruises.
He looked small.
Leo woke the second we stepped in.
"Daddy…"
I set him on the chair beside the bed.
Leo reached out with both tiny hands and wrapped them around Ryan's huge, lifeless fingers.
"Daddy, it's me. Leo. You have to wake up now. You promised."
The monitors kept their slow, indifferent rhythm.
Beep…
Beep…
I leaned over the bed until my lips brushed Ryan's ear.
All the walls I had built for five years crumbled.
My voice came out raw, shaking, furious.
"Listen to me, you stupid, stupid Alpha.
You do not get to die like this.
You don't get to play hero for one afternoon and think it makes up for five years of nightmares.
You owe us a lifetime, Ryan Blackwood.
A lifetime of breakfasts and nightmares and first days of school and every single thing you threw away."
Tears fell from my eyes onto his cheek.
"Wake up.
Wake up and earn it."
The heart monitor skipped once (faster) then settled again.
I didn't know if he heard me.
I hoped the stubborn bastard did.
A nurse touched my shoulder. Time was up.
I kissed Ryan's forehead (ice-cold) then lifted Leo down.
He refused to let go of Ryan's hand until I promised we would come back.
In the hallway, I set Leo on a bench with Marcus. The gentle giant looked down at my son with tears in his eyes, placing a protective hand on Leo's shoulder.
I walked ten steps away, pulled out my phone, and dialed the number Ryan's beta had forced into my hand weeks ago.
Damon picked up on the first ring.
"Luna?"
The title hit me like a slap.
I didn't correct him.
"Damon. Scarlett hired rogues. They tried to take Leo today.
Ryan is dying because of her."
Silence. Then a growl that rattled the speaker.
"Tell me what you need."
"Find her. Every hole she's hiding in. Every rat she's paying.
I want her alive."
A pause.
"And the pack?" he asked quietly.
I looked back at the bench.
Leo had stopped crying. He lifted his head from Marcus's jacket, his big eyes wide, watching me. He didn't see a scared mommy anymore. He saw something else.
I wiped the tears from my face with the back of a hand still streaked in Ryan's blood.
"Tell the pack their Luna is back," I said, voice cold enough to freeze the Hudson.
"And she's done running."
I hung up.
Behind me, the heart monitor in Ryan's room kept its stubborn rhythm.
Beep…
Beep…
I stared at the phone in my hand.
Then I looked up at the ceiling, like I could see the moon through concrete and steel.
Your move, Scarlett.