Hospital antiseptic burned my nostrils. I dragged my eyelids open, blinded by the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Panic spiked in my chest. I tried to kick off the thin white blanket to escape the suffocating heat of the room, commanding my knees to bend.
Nothing happened.
Below my waist, a terrifying void replaced my lower half. I slammed my working hand against my thigh. The sharp slap echoed off the walls, but my skin registered zero sensation.
"Your spine sustained catastrophic damage," Dr. Warren said. He stood at the foot of my bed, a metal clipboard pressed tightly to his chest. He refused to meet my eyes, focusing entirely on the chart in his hands. "The lower vertebrae were crushed by a massive blunt force. We stabilized the fractures during emergency surgery, removing the bone fragments that pierced the spinal canal. However, the nerve severance is extensive."
"Define extensive," I demanded, my voice raw and entirely devoid of moisture.
"You face a long rehabilitation period in a wheelchair," the doctor replied, shifting his weight nervously. He pointed a silver pen toward my motionless legs. "The spinal cord was nearly severed at the lumbar level. Full mobility is highly unlikely. We will schedule physical therapy to maintain muscle tone, but you must prepare for permanent paralysis."
"Leave us," Adrian ordered from the corner of the room.
"I am so sorry," Adrian whispered, his voice cracking. "I tried to stop the door. I really did."
"You stood next to the manual override," I said, my tone sounding like dry gravel. "You put your arms around Lucas."
"The situation was complete chaos!" Adrian argued, squeezing my knuckles tight enough to grind the bones. "Celeste was screaming in my ear. The emergency sirens were deafening. By the time I realized Lucas hit the lockdown sequence, the gears were already grinding."
"You looked right at me through the gap," I stated. "You saw me carrying Clara."
"You were too far down the corridor," Adrian insisted, leaning closer. "If I stopped the door, the Rogues would have breached the safe room. They would have slaughtered everyone inside."
"The Rogues were fifty yards away," I countered. "I was five yards from the threshold. I dragged an injured maid the entire way while you stood there."
"I had to make a split-second decision to protect the pack," Adrian pleaded, reaching his free hand out to brush a strand of singed hair from my forehead.
I flinched away from his touch. "You risked your mate to protect another woman."
"Do not do this," he warned, his tone hardening slightly. "I love you. We will get through this together. I will hire the best physical therapists in the territory. You will walk again."
"You watched me bleed out on the floor," I said. "You watched the control room camera feed."
Adrian dropped his gaze to the linoleum floor. "I had to ensure the explosives did not detonate near the frame. I was monitoring the perimeter."
"You monitored my execution."
"I kept our son safe!" Adrian raised his voice, defensive anger replacing his guilt. "I kept the pack safe. I made the hard Alpha choice, and you are alive. That is what matters. You are turning a tactical decision into a personal attack."
"You let Clara die," I said.
Adrian stiffened. "Casualties happen in a raid. You know this."
The heavy wooden door pushed open. Lucas shuffled into the room. His neon-green hoodie was gone, replaced by a clean, pressed gray shirt. He stopped just inside the threshold. He did not run to my side. He did not cry. His gaze flicked over the thick white bandages wrapping my ribs and shoulders, then darted to the blank television mounted on the wall.
"Come here, Lucas," Adrian coaxed, gesturing with his hand. "Talk to your mother."
"Are you going to yell at me?" Lucas asked.
"No," I replied softly.
"Good." Lucas kicked the metal leg of the hospital bed. "Because I was right. You survived."
"What did you say?" I asked.
"You are alive," Lucas stated, his tone rising with defensive confidence. "You fought off the monsters just like you always do. If I left the door open, Celeste might have gotten hurt. She doesn't know how to fight. You do."
"You locked me outside with three Rogues," I pointed out, testing the absolute limits of his empathy. "They broke my back."
"And you won!" Lucas argued, throwing his hands up in frustration. "So since you lived, it proves I didn't make the wrong choice. You are just hurt. Celeste would have died if they got inside. She doesn't have a wolf."
Ice flooded my veins. The profound chill seeped into my chest, wrapping around my heart and squeezing until the organ simply stopped beating. I did not scream. I did not throw my water pitcher across the room. I felt absolutely nothing for the Alpha sitting beside me. I felt absolutely nothing for the son standing at the foot of my bed. The fierce, suffocating love I harbored for this family evaporated into the sterile hospital air.
I looked down at Adrian's hand gripping mine.
"Get out," I said.
Adrian blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "You are just upset. The medication is making you irrational."
"Get out of my room," I repeated, my voice dropping to a flat, hollow pitch. "Both of you. Right now."
"Mom, you're being mean again," Lucas complained, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just said you did a good job fighting them. Celeste said you would be proud of me for protecting the weak."
"Leave," I commanded, staring directly at the wall.
Adrian stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His jaw tightened in anger. "Fine. We will give you space to cool down. But you need to stop acting like a victim. You are the Luna. Start acting like one."
I waited until their footsteps faded down the corridor. Silence pressed against my ears. I reached my good arm under the flat hospital pillow. My fingers brushed against a small, hard square of plastic.
I pulled out the backup communicator. It was an outdated, bulky device, completely untraceable. I had hidden it inside my boot six years ago, transferring it to my jacket pocket only when I went into the field. The hospital staff had placed my ruined clothes in a plastic bag on the bedside table. I had dragged the device out before Dr. Warren arrived, sensing I would need it.
I flipped the screen open. The keypad glowed green across my bruised knuckles.
I typed in a twelve-digit encrypted number I had committed to memory over half a decade ago. I had sworn to myself I would never dial these digits. I had sworn I left my violent past behind to build a peaceful home with Adrian. That home no longer existed.
The line rang once. Twice.
A sharp click signaled the connection.
"Well, well," a smooth, cultured voice said through the tiny speaker. "I honestly thought you would never call me again, Rose."
I closed my eyes. "I need a way out, Elias."
"Then consider the Obsidian Network awake."
