Ghost Zora POV:
I watched the door to the operating theater swing open. Dr. Petra stepped out, pulling her surgical mask down. Her face was ashen, her hands trembling slightly where she gripped a clipboard.
She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to tell them the truth, perhaps to scream that they were all murderers.
"Alpha, I need to speak with you about Zora's-"
My father shoved past her before she could finish the sentence.
"Is the transplant done?" he barked. "Is Laila stable?"
"The transfer is complete," Petra said, her voice hollow. "But Zora..."
"We don't care about the spare right now," my mother interrupted, her eyes manic with worry. She pushed Petra aside and rushed toward the recovery room where Laila was being wheeled. "My baby! My poor, brave Laila!"
I floated near the ceiling, a silent spectator to my own erasure.
Two orderlies came into the operating room. They didn't look at my face. They grabbed the sheet stained with my black blood and pulled it over my head.
"Heavy," one of them grunted as they lifted my corpse onto a gurney.
"Just get it to the morgue," the other said. "Alpha said no fanfare. Just put her in a drawer."
They wheeled my body away. No one followed. No one looked back. The wheel of the gurney squeaked, a lonely sound that echoed down the empty corridor.
I decided to follow the living. I drifted through the walls into the VIP suite.
Laila was waking up. The color was returning to her cheeks-a false flush caused by my poisoned essence pumping through her system. She took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering open.
"Oh," she sighed, smiling. "I feel... powerful."
It was the adrenaline of the transplant. She didn't know she was feeling the power of a dying star, a burst of energy before the collapse.
Simon was at her bedside instantly, kneeling on the floor. He took her hand.
"You made it," he said. His voice was gentle, but I saw the tension in his shoulders. His inner wolf was pacing, unsettled.
"Did Zora...?" Laila asked, making her voice small and fearful.
"She did her duty," my father said, beaming with pride. "You are whole now, Laila. You have the essence of the White Wolf line, even if it came from a defective source. It belongs to you now."
Laila sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest. She looked at Simon with wide, wet eyes.
"Sister is gone, isn't she?" she whispered, though I saw the gleam of victory in her gaze. "I can feel it. The emptiness where she used to be."
Simon didn't answer. He just squeezed her hand.
"Simon," Laila said, leaning forward. "I know it's too soon... but the pack needs a Luna. I want to take care of you. I want to finish what she couldn't do."
My mother stepped forward, unclasping the heavy silver and moonstone necklace from her own neck-the symbol of the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack.
"She is right," my mother said, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Zora was a mistake. You, Laila, are our legacy."
She placed the necklace around Laila's neck. The stones sat heavy on her throat, right where my essence was slowly beginning to leak its poison into her blood.
"I want to be your mate, Simon," Laila murmured. "Mark me. Make it official."
I hovered right by Simon's ear.
*Look at her,* I whispered, though he couldn't hear me. *Look at the monster you chose.*
Simon hesitated. He looked at Laila's neck, exposed and waiting.
"The pack needs stability," my father pressed. "Do it, Alpha."
Simon leaned in.
