"Mommy, look what I made with the chefs." Bill pushed a small white plate across the marble kitchen island.
I smiled at my five-year-old son, wiping a smudge of flour off his chubby cheek. "For me? You shouldn't have."
"Eat it now," he demanded, bouncing on his toes. "I want to see if you like it."
"What flavor is it?" I asked, picking up the silver dessert fork.
"Chocolate surprise," Bill answered quickly.
"I love surprises." I cut a large piece of the dark pastry. The rich icing hid the danger perfectly. I took a bite, savoring the sweetness.
"Is it good?" he asked, his blue eyes wide and unblinking.
"It's delicious," I started to say, but the words died on my tongue.
An earthy, gritty texture coated the roof of my mouth.
My throat closed instantly. The fork clattered onto the granite counter.
"Mommy? Are you eating it all?"
I clawed at my neck. My airway sealed shut.
"Peanuts," I wheezed.
I slid off the tall stool. My knees slammed into the hardwood floor.
Bill stood perfectly still. He didn't run for help. He didn't scream for the pack guards.
"Why aren't you eating more?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Help... me..." I gasped, reaching a trembling hand toward him.
He took a step back, staying just out of my reach.
"Aunt Jessica said if you ate this, she could be my mom," he stated.
His childish voice held no malice, only a simple, chilling truth.
Ice flooded my veins. The son I nurtured, the boy I loved more than my own life, had poisoned me.
"Bill..." I choked out. A single tear escaped my eye, blurring my vision.
"She promised to take me to the amusement park," he added, watching me collapse fully onto the tiles. "And she plays video games with me. You never play video games."
My lungs burned. The edges of the room faded into shadows.
"Don't worry," Bill said, his voice dropping as my hearing gave out. "Aunt Jessica will take good care of me."
Darkness swallowed me whole.
***
The sharp beep of a heart monitor dragged me back to consciousness.
"Finally awake," a stern voice noted.
I cracked my eyes open. A nurse in blue scrubs stood over my bed, adjusting an IV drip.
"Water," I croaked. Every syllable felt like sandpaper against my swollen throat.
She handed me a plastic cup with a straw. "Sip slowly. You went into severe anaphylactic shock."
I drank, the cool liquid soothing the burn.
"You are the Luna of the Iron Blood Pack," she scolded, crossing her arms. "You know you have a lethal peanut allergy. Why did you eat that cake?"
"I didn't know," I whispered, handing the cup back. "My son gave it to me."
The nurse frowned, her expression skeptical. "A five-year-old baked a cake? You still should have checked. You almost died, Luna Rebecca."
"He said it was chocolate," I defended myself weakly.
"You need to take better care of yourself. We barely stabilized your heart rate. Another few minutes and your throat would have closed permanently."
I ignored her reprimand. I scanned the sterile white room. Empty chairs. A closed door.
"Where is Alpha George?" I asked.
She paused, glancing at her clipboard. "He isn't here."
"Did he step out to speak with the doctor?"
"No, Luna. He never arrived."
I gripped the thin hospital blanket. "And Bill? My son?"
"You were brought in by a border patrol guard," the nurse explained flatly. "No family members accompanied you."
A hollow ache expanded in my chest. "Did anyone call my husband? He needs to know I'm here."
"We left three urgent voicemails," she replied. "No response."
"Call him again," I insisted, my voice gaining a fraction of its usual authority.
"The front desk tried five minutes ago. It went straight to voicemail."
"What about the pack mind-link? He never shuts off his Alpha link."
"He blocked external links. We have no way to reach him."
"Then send a runner to the Pack House," I commanded.
"We already did," the nurse sighed. "The guard returned and said the Alpha ordered not to be disturbed under any circumstances."
My chest tightened. The words felt like a physical blow.
"Not to be disturbed?" I repeated.
"Those were his exact orders. I suggest you rest, Luna." She turned on her heel and exited the room.
Left alone in the deafening silence, I needed answers.
I closed my eyes and reached deep into my core. As Luna, my spirit tied directly to the pack's lands. I possessed the unique ability to project my sight anywhere within our territory.
The hospital walls faded. The grand living room of the Pack House materialized in my mind.
Thunder rattled the virtual windowpanes. A heavy storm raged outside.
"George, make it stop. I'm so scared," a trembling voice whimpered.
Jessica.
She cowered on the center of the plush leather sofa, her knees pulled tight to her chest.
George and Bill gently comforted her, as if they were the family.
Meanwhile, I, the real wife and mother, lay in grave danger, and no one cared.
I closed my eyes, a tear sliding down my cheek.
