chapter 177
Susan's POV:
The wheelchair felt cold beneath my trembling hands as Charlotte guided me toward the exit of the Luna ceremony venue.
My fingers had gone numb—not from the chill in the air, but from the lingering sensation of striking Tori.
I shouldn't have done it.
The rational part of my mind knew that, had known it even as my palm connected with her cheek. But when it came to my daughter, rationality abandoned me.
"Mother, you need to rest," Charlotte murmured, her voice tight with concern.
She'd been watching me with those worried eyes since we left, probably noticing how my hands wouldn't stop shaking. "Let's get you home."
Home. The word felt hollow. What was home when our family had shattered the day they told me my daughter was dead?
William and I had drifted apart like two ships unmoored, and even Charlotte couldn't fill the void that Luna's loss had carved into our lives.
The driver pulled our vehicle to the entrance, rain beginning to spatter against the windshield. The storm had come from nowhere, as if the moon itself was weeping.
Charlotte helped me toward the car, but I couldn't shake the unease crawling up my spine. Something felt wrong.
My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, whimpering in a way she hadn't since—
"Mrs. Shepherd, Miss Charlotte." The driver's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts as he opened the door.
The car door closed with a soft thud as Charlotte settled beside me, and the driver pulled away from the venue.
Rain began to patter against the windshield, each drop like a tiny accusation. I stared out at the blurred lights of Moonhaven, my hands still trembling in my lap.
We'd barely made it two blocks when the driver's phone rang, the sharp trill cutting through the heavy silence. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting to one of concern.
"It's coming through the pack emergency network," he said, his hand hovering over the answer button. "Ma'am, the weather's making it difficult to handle the phone safely. May I put it on speaker?"
Charlotte nodded before I could respond. "Go ahead."
The driver accepted the call, and immediately a crisp, urgent voice filled the car's interior.
"This is from Moontouch Medical Center's blood services division. We have a critical emergency requiring immediate assistance from any pack members possessing healing blood capabilities. A young Omega is experiencing severe amniotic fluid embolism during premature labor. We're offering a substantial reward—one million moonstones—to any qualified donor who can assist immediately."
My hands clenched the armrests. An Omega in labor. Premature. Dangerous.
Just like—
"Mother?" Charlotte's hand covered mine. "Mother, what's wrong? You've gone pale."
But I barely heard her. The doctor's next words seemed to echo directly into my soul.
"The patient is a silver-eyed Omega, approximately twenty-two years old. Blood type AB negative with rare healing compatibility markers. If anyone matching these criteria is available—"
Silver eyes.
Twenty-two years old.
The numbers crashed through my mind like thunder.
"Drive," I gasped, my voice barely audible. "Drive to the hospital. Now."
"Mother, you can't be serious." Charlotte's grip on my shoulder tightened. "You're not well. You need to rest, not—"
"NOW!" The word tore from my throat with an Alpha's authority I hadn't used in years, startling even myself. The driver jerked into motion, tires squealing against wet pavement.
Charlotte fell silent beside me, but I could feel her worried gaze burning into the side of my face. My hands had stopped shaking. Instead, they'd gone rigid, fingers digging into the leather armrest hard enough to leave marks.
My mind replayed the ceremony—the moment my hand had connected with her cheek, the shock in those silver eyes, the way she'd stumbled backward.
Had I caused this? Had my strike triggered something? Premature labor, complications—
No. I pushed the thought away, but it clawed back with vicious persistence.
I hated what she represented. The proof of betrayal, the living reminder that my husband had loved another woman enough to create a child with her. The daughter of that woman—that mistress who had destroyed my marriage and stolen my Luna from me.
But even as hatred churned in my gut, another emotion rose to meet it. Horror.
I didn't understand it—this inability to truly wish her harm. Perhaps it was because, despite everything, the sins of the parents shouldn't fall upon the children.
The rain intensified, matching the storm raging inside me.
I had the right blood type. The healing capabilities they needed. I could save her.
Let this be my penance, then. My blood for my Luna's sake. Perhaps if I saved this girl perhaps the Moon Goddess would see fit to let my real daughter rest easier, wherever her spirit had gone.
The hospital loomed ahead, its lights cutting through the storm like beacons.
"We're here," the driver announced unnecessarily as he pulled under the emergency entrance awning.
I was moving before the car fully stopped, my hands gripping the wheelchair's wheels and propelling myself forward with desperate urgency. Charlotte's startled cry followed me as I rolled toward the entrance, ignoring her attempts to help.
"Mother, wait! Let me—"
But I couldn't wait. My arms burned with the effort, muscles protesting after years of relying on others to push me, but I ignored the pain. I had to get inside.
The automatic doors slid open, and I stumbled into a scene of controlled chaos.