St. Mercy's Hospital smelled like antiseptic and death.
I'd been here so many times in the past three months that the nurses recognized me on sight. They gave me sad smiles and pitying looks as I walked through the lobby, dripping rainwater on their polished floors.
"Sign in, sweetie," the receptionist said gently, pushing the clipboard toward me.
I signed my name in handwriting that barely looked like mine anymore. Shaky. Broken. The signature of someone who was falling apart.
The elevator ride to the fourth floor....the supernatural ward.....felt longer than usual. Or maybe time was just moving strangely today, this day that would end with me in the beds of three Cursed Alphas.
The doors opened with a soft ding.
I walked down the corridor, past rooms filled with wolves recovering from silver poisoning, curse wounds, magical accidents. The supernatural ward housed the cases that human medicine couldn't fix. The ones who needed something more.
Room 447. Mom's room.
I stopped outside the door, my hand on the handle, and took a breath.
This never got easier.
I pushed the door open.
The machines beeped steadily.....heart monitor, breathing monitor, IV drip. The sound of life support. The sound of someone hovering between living and dying, unable to choose either.
Mom lay in the bed exactly as she had for three months. Exactly as she would tomorrow and the day after if I couldn't pay her bills.
She looked so small.
That's what always struck me. My mother had been strong, vibrant, full of life and laughter. Now she looked like she was disappearing, fading into the white sheets, becoming a ghost before she'd even died.
Her dark hair....the same shade as mine....was streaked with grey now. Her face was pale and sunken. Her hands, folded on top of the blanket, were skeletal.
The mate bond breaking had done this. The wolfsbane had done this.
Grief had done this.
I pulled the chair close to her bed and sat down, taking one of her cold hands in both of mine.
"Hey, Mom," I whispered.
She didn't respond. She never did.
"I lost my job today. Joe let me go. Said the wolves don't want a wolfless serving them." I tried to laugh but it came out as a sob. "Guess I can't blame them. Who wants to be reminded that broken things exist?"
The machines beeped their steady rhythm.
"I don't know what to do anymore. I've tried everything. Applied everywhere. Sold everything we had. I'm out of options."
My throat tightened.
"Except one."
I stared at her face, memorizing the lines, the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips. Trying to remember what she looked like when she smiled.
"There's this thing tonight. The Rite. I know you've heard of it. Everyone has, even if they pretend not to."
The memory of finding her flashed through my mind, vivid and brutal.
Coming home from a double shift, exhausted, wanting nothing but sleep.
Finding the apartment door unlocked. Weird. Mom always locked it.
Calling her name. No answer.
Walking to the kitchen and seeing her on the floor.
So still. Too still.
The empty bottle beside her. Wolfsbane. The label stark and clear.
Dropping to my knees, shaking her, screaming her name.
Her lips were blue. Her skin was cold.
Calling 911 with shaking hands, barely able to speak.
"My mother....she drank wolfsbane....please, please help...."
The ambulance ride. The longest minutes of my life.
Watching them pump her stomach, hook her up to machines, work frantically to save her.
The doctor pulling me aside, his expression grave.
"The amount she ingested... it's a miracle she's alive. But the wolfsbane combined with the mate bond breaking....her system has sustained severe damage."
"Will she wake up?"
His hesitation told me everything. "I don't know. I'm sorry. Sometimes with trauma this severe... the body stays alive, but the mind decides it doesn't want to be here anymore."
"So she's choosing this? Choosing to leave me?"
"It's not that simple...."
"Yes it is." My voice broke. "Dad's gone and she can't handle it, so she's leaving me too. I'm not enough to stay for."
"That's not....."
But I'd walked away before he could finish.
Walked away and left her in that hospital bed, machines breathing for her, and I hadn't known if I'd ever get her back.
I squeezed her hand now, three months later, and the guilt was just as sharp.
"I was so angry at you," I admitted. "For giving up. For choosing wolfsbane over me. For deciding that living without Dad wasn't worth it, even though I'm still here, still needing you."
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
"But I get it now. I understand what it's like to feel so broken that you can't see a way forward. To feel so lost that nothing seems worth it anymore."
The machines beeped.
"I'm sorry I was angry. I'm sorry I wasn't enough to make you want to stay."
My voice cracked completely.