CHAPTER 99: SOME PROTECTOR 1

CIAN

My hands shook as I grabbed the first shirt I could find. I yanked it over my head. The fabric caught on my shoulder. I didn’t care. My fingers fumbled with the buttons.

"Cian, wait—"

I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. My feet hit the floor hard as I ran. The hallway blurred past me. Paintings on the walls became streaks of color. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out everything else.

The infirmary doors loomed ahead. I slammed my palms against them. They swung open so hard they crashed against the walls.

The smell hit me first. Antiseptic mixed with something bitter. Something wrong.

My mother still lay on the bed in the center of the room. Tubes still ran from her arms. Monitors beeped in frantic rhythms that made my chest tighten. Her skin looked gray. Waxy. Like something already dead.

Maren stood over her. Her hands moved quickly across her body. Checking vitals. Adjusting machines. Her jaw was set in a hard line.

Elder Thorne worked beside her. His aged hands traced patterns right above my mother’s chest with his herbs.

"What’s happening?" The words tore out of my throat.

Neither of them looked at me. Maren pressed two fingers against my mother’s neck. Her lips moved silently. Counting.

"Her heart stopped." Thorne’s voice was strained. "We got it started again but it’s weak."

The world tilted. My knees nearly buckled.

I watched them work. Watched Maren compress her chest. Watched Thorne use his alternative medicine to supplement whatever Maren was doing. Every second stretched into an eternity. Every beep from the monitor felt like a countdown to the end.

My mother’s chest rose. Fell. Rose again.

The frantic beeping slowed. Steadied into something more rhythmic.

Only then did Maren stepped back. Her shoulders sagged. "She’s stable."

Stable. The word should have brought relief. It didn’t. Stable wasn’t cured. Stable wasn’t safe. Stable was just another word for barely holding on.

"You can see her." Maren looked at me finally. Her eyes were tired. "But only for a moment. She needs rest."

I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the floor. I stared at my mother’s still form and every part of me screamed to go to her. But I couldn’t make myself take that step.

If I went to her, I would have to face it. Face how close I’d come to losing her again. I would have to face just how helpless I was.

"No." The word came out flat. Empty.

Maren’s eyebrows rose. "Alpha Cian—"

"This madness needs to stop." I turned to face her and Thorne. My hands curled into fists. "I brought you herbs. Pills. Potions. Everything from that dead witch’s store. You need to make a cure. Now."

Thorne shook his head. "We cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"It is still magic." Maren’s voice was gentle. I hated that it was too gentle. Like I was child that needed to be schooled. "We don’t know what interactions—"

"I don’t want to hear that!" The shout exploded out of me. It echoed off the infirmary walls. Several heads turned. I didn’t care. "Figure it out. That’s what you’re supposed to do."

"Cian." Ronan’s voice came from behind me. I hadn’t heard him enter. "You need to calm down."

I whirled on him. "How can you tell me that? Did you not just see what happened? Did you not just hear what happened?!"

"I did." His expression was carefully neutral. "But shouting at the people trying to help won’t—"

"They’re making excuses."

"Cian, please—"

"No." I pointed at my mother. "She just coded. It will only get worse. Just because she’s a Luna doesn’t mean this poison won’t damage her permanently. I’m sick of hearing excuses."

"Those are not excuses." Fia’s voice was quiet. I’d forgotten she’d followed me. She stood near the door. Her arms wrapped around herself. "They cannot just delve into what magic clearly caused. There are protocols. Safety measures—"

"I just need everyone to just shut up."

The words came out cold. Harsh. They hung in the air like poison.

Fia flinched. The hurt that flashed across her face made something twist in my gut. But I pushed it down. Buried it under the weight of everything else threatening to crush me.

Maren’s expression had gone stony. Thorne looked disappointed. Ronan’s jaw clenched.

I heard even more footsteps and soon uncle Aldric appeared in the doorway with Elara close behind. He took in the scene quickly. His eyes moved from me to my mother to the tense faces of everyone else.

"I heard what happened and they all have a point," Aldric said carefully.

I scoffed. The sound was bitter. "She just coded. Did you all miss that part?"

"We didn’t miss anything." Ronan’s voice had an edge now. "But flying off the handle—"

"I’m not flying off the handle. I’m being realistic." I could feel the words pouring out. I could hear how cruel they sounded. But I couldn’t stop. The pain had to go somewhere. It had to land on someone and at this point, I didn’t care who. "She’s dying and you’re all standing around talking about protocols and safety measures."

"Cian." Fia took a step toward me. Her eyes pleaded. "We’re just trying to help."

"Then help." My voice cracked. "I need to stop hearing why they can’t do it. I need something... anything to just be done."

The silence that followed felt suffocating. I could see the hurt on their faces. I could see how my words landed like blows. Some small, distant part of me knew I was wrong. Knew I was lashing out at people who didn’t deserve it.

But that part was drowned out by the roaring in my head. The image of my mother’s gray skin. The memory of those frantic monitor beeps. The knowledge that I might lose her right now and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"I’m tired." The words came out quieter. Defeated. "I’m really tired."

No one spoke. They just watched me. Waiting.

I turned to Ronan. "You know what you can do for me right now? Get Elder Moira with all her spiritual sensibilities. Get every sentinel and Omega. Make them take another oath. Whoever still wants Gabriel can go to hell before I send them there as well."

Ronan’s throat moved as he swallowed. "I will."

I didn’t wait for more. I couldn’t stay in that room another second. The walls felt too close. The air too thick. I pushed past Aldric and Elara. My shoulder hit the doorframe. I barely felt it.

The hallway stretched endlessly. My feet carried me forward without conscious thought. Downstairs. Through the corridors and out the back doors into the gardens.

The cool evening air hit my face. I gulped it down like a drowning man. My hands found a stone bench. I gripped the edge hard enough to hurt.

Don’t explode. Don’t break. Not here. Not where anyone can see.

My phone felt heavy in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen was too bright. I squinted at the contacts list. My thumb scrolled down. Past names I barely remembered. Past people who couldn’t help.

It stopped on Madeline’s name.

My hand wavered. Pride warred with desperation. She hated me. I’d made sure of that. The things I’d said to her during that last argument still echoed in my memory. Cruel. Cutting. Designed to push her away because I’d been angry and hurt and too proud to admit I needed her by my side.

I hit call.

The sound that came back made my stomach drop. Not ringing. Just a flat, dead tone followed by an automated message. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable please—"

I ended the call. My vision blurred. Tears burned hot behind my eyes. I blinked them back furiously but one escaped. It tracked down my cheek. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

Blocked. Of course she’d blocked me.

My fingers scrolled up and I found another name. Valentine. Her father. The head of their coven.

This time the call went through. It rang once. Twice. Three times. But he didn’t pick so it went straight to voicemail.

"This is Valentine. Leave a message."

The beep sounded. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out at first.

"I know I shouldn’t be calling." The words stumbled over each other. "But I—"

What was I supposed to say? That I was desperate? That my pride had finally broken under the weight of watching my mother die?

"I need help." My voice cracked. "Please, I need either you or Madeline’s help. I don’t want my mother to die."

The words hung there. Pathetic. Pleading. Everything I’d sworn I’d never be.

This was stupid. Childish. I reached for the phone to stop the recording but my thumb slipped. Hit send instead of cancel.

"No." I stared at the screen in horror. The message sent. Gone. Out there for Valentine to hear and judge.

I wanted to throw the phone. Wanted to scream. Wanted to do anything except stand there feeling like the world’s biggest fool.

"It seems like you are ready to get their help."

I spun around. Aldric stood a few feet away. His hands were in his pockets. His expression was unreadable in the dim light.

"I apologize for listening in." He moved closer. "But you ran out so quickly. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I’m fine." The lie was automatic.

"If they do not reply, I can try." Aldric stopped beside the bench. "I have contacts among the covens. Different ones. People who might—"

"It was something I did in the moment." I cut him off. My fingers tightened around the phone. "It was stupid. Not like they would take it up."

"You don’t know that."

"I do." The words tasted bitter. "It might seem cruel, but I would understand. I put Madeline through hell."

Aldric waited. Let the silence stretch.

"She told me to choose." The confession pulled itself out of me. "Between her and this pack... And I... And I chose." I laughed. The sound had no humor in it. "I didn’t choose her. Wow. Just hearing myself say it does bring new perspective. I am so selfish. It’s selfish wanting her hand again. Isn’t it?"

My uncle was quiet for a long moment. The garden rustled around us. Wind through leaves. The distant sound of water from a fountain.

"Desperation makes us reach for things we pushed away," Aldric said finally. "It doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you mortal."

"She blocked my number."

"Then she is still angry. And that means you still linger. But anger fades." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Especially when someone they once cared about needs help."

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that Madeline might put aside her hurt and anger for my mother’s sake. But I knew better. I’d burned that bridge thoroughly. Salted the earth where it stood even.

My phone stayed silent in my hand. No call back. No message. Just the weight of my own poor choices pressing down.

"Come inside." Aldric squeezed my shoulder. "You need rest."

"I can’t rest." My throat felt raw. "Not while she’s—"

"I know." His voice was gentle. "But you cannot help anyone if you collapse. You are this pack’s Alpha. You need your shit together. And your mother will need you strong when she wakes up."

When. Not if. The word choice wasn’t lost on me.

I let him guide me back toward the house. Each step felt heavier than the last. The phone burned in my pocket. A reminder of how far I’d fallen. How desperate I’d become.

Inside, the halls were quiet. Most of the pack had retreated to their own concerns. Word would spread about my mother’s episode. About my outburst in the infirmary. Another failure added to a growing list.

We reached my room. Aldric paused at the door.

"Try to sleep," he said. "Even an hour will help."

I nodded. Didn’t trust my voice anymore.

He left. The door clicked shut behind him. I stood in the middle of the room and stared at nothing. My phone stayed silent. The message sat unanswered in Valentine’s voicemail. Madeline’s block remained firmly in place.

I’d never felt more alone. Never felt more stuck. Not since that day...