Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

10. Dating a ghost

I didn’t remember walking.

One moment I was in the car — the next I was at the back of the ambulance, my hands shaking so badly I could barely make them close into fists. Everything felt too bright. Too loud. The world was wrong without her standing in it.

She was on the stretcher.

Pale. Still.

Not breathing the way she should.

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no—”

I stumbled toward the paramedics before anyone could stop me.

“Can I come with her?” The words tore out of my throat. “Please. She’s—”

My voice broke.

“She’s my wife.”

The word came out before I could think.

Wife.

It was a lie by human standards. I hadn’t marked her. I hadn’t claimed her. I hadn’t even kissed her long enough to make it real.

But in my blood, in my bones, in the way my heart felt like it was ripping itself apart—

She was mine.

And the thought of being left behind while they took her away…

It felt like death.

A cold, terrible awareness hit me then — how small I was in this moment. How useless. I could fight packs, tear through enemies, command warriors—

But I couldn’t make her breathe.

I couldn’t make her wake up.

Humans had rules. Papers. Permissions. Lines I wasn’t allowed to cross — even if everything inside me was screaming to follow her.

I would have traded every ounce of power I had just to hold her hand.

Just to tell her she wasn’t alone.

Just to beg her not to leave me.

And I stood there, helpless, watching them wheel my mate away, knowing that for the first time in my life—

I had no idea what to do.

“Yes,” the paramedic said calmly. “You can ride with her. Please sit here once we are all settled and I get in first.”

The doors closed with a heavy metallic thud, sealing us inside the ambulance as it lurched forward. Sirens wailed. Red lights washed over Thumper’s still face.

I took her hand.

It was cold.

Too cold.

She lay there unmoving, lashes dark against pale skin, chest barely rising beneath the blanket. She looked… empty. Like something precious had been drained out of her, leaving only a fragile shell behind.

My throat tightened as panic clawed up my spine.

I linked my warriors.

‘Tell me what happened.’

One of them answered first, his voice tight with guilt.

‘Alpha, she was okay at first. Tired, but working. Then she dropped the dishes. They shattered everywhere—and she went down right after.’

Another voice layered over his.

‘She was pushing herself. Couldn’t stay focused. Could barely keep her eyes open. I knew something was wrong but she kept insisting she was fine.’

More followed. Different details. Same ending.

Exhaustion.

Strain.

A woman burning herself to the ground in front of my pack.

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

They saw it.

They watched her struggle. They watched her fight to stay upright.

And no one stopped her.

Not one of them had stepped in to tell her she didn’t have to destroy herself just to exist.

Fear twisted inside me — hot and vicious now, no longer just panic but something sharper.

Not at her.

At the world that made her believe she had to suffer alone.

At my pack for letting her.

I forced myself to breathe, to keep my voice and my body steady before I turned to the paramedics. Humans could sense panic — and right now I couldn’t afford to lose control.

But inside…

My wolf was already roaring.

“What happened to her?” I demanded, my voice rough. “How did she get into this state?”

The paramedic sitting across from me didn’t flinch. He explained everything the restaurant manager had told them during the emergency call — how Thumper had already looked unwell when she arrived for her shift, how she’d been pale and unfocused, how her hands had been shaking even before the dishes slipped from her grip.

“Severe exhaustion,” he said. “Likely dehydration. Malnutrition. She’s been running on nothing for a while.”

Each word hit like a blow.

“She hasn’t been taking care of herself,” he continued. “We’ll keep her under observation for the next twenty-four hours at least. But after that, she needs support. Structure. Someone making sure she eats and rests. Otherwise, this will happen again.”

I nodded slowly.

I was going to make sure it never happened again.

Even if she fought me every step of the way.

The ambulance pulled into the hospital bay, and everything blurred into motion — doors opening, voices calling out, hands guiding the stretcher through white hallways.

They put her in a room.

I sat beside her bed, watching her chest rise and fall, barely daring to breathe too loudly in case I disturbed whatever fragile hold she had on consciousness.

An hour passed.

Then the door opened.

My mother walked in, eyes already full of worry — and behind her was Rory’s mate.

And suddenly, Thumper wasn’t alone anymore.

I caught sight of the paramedic who had spoken to me earlier and motioned for him to step outside with me. I left my mother and Rory’s mate by Thumper’s bedside — she wasn’t going to wake up alone.

“Thank you for finding her,” I said quietly once we were in the hallway. “She’s been unreachable for three days. A friend saw her working at a family restaurant and called me. I didn’t know she was in this condition.”

My hands clenched slowly at my sides.

“She just got out of a marriage,” I added. “Everything in her life fell apart all at once. We… moved too fast. I failed to see she didn’t have time to breathe.”

The paramedic nodded, sympathy flickering across his face.

“Extreme stress can do this,” he said. “She’s not weak — she’s overwhelmed.”

Then his expression turned more professional, more detached.

“She’ll recover. But if she’s brought in again under similar circumstances — exhaustion, malnutrition, collapse — she’ll be placed on a psychiatric hold for her own safety.”

The word hold scraped against my bones.

Something inside me surged — my wolf slamming against the cage of my ribs, a low snarl vibrating in my throat. For one terrifying second, I wanted to bare my teeth and remind this human what kind of creature he was standing in front of.

I didn’t.

I swallowed it.

Because Thumper needed me calm.

And alive.

But the promise burned inside me all the same:

No one was taking her from me again.

I was just outside the door when her voice reached me.

Confused. Rushed. Already trying to stand on legs that had given out beneath her.

“Who brought me here?” Thumper asked. “I don’t remember what happened. My shift isn’t over — I’m supposed to work the dead hours until ten, then go back to the gas station. Why am I here?”

The words hit me like a blade.

Even unconscious. Even broken down. She was still trying to earn her right to exist.

My mother answered before I could step in, her tone sharp with restrained anger.

“You collapsed,” she said. “Because you refused help. Because you thought you could carry everything alone. Why are you being so stubborn when not one of us has ever treated you as a burden, Thumper? What is going on inside your head, child?”

I winced.

Mom had always been direct — loving, but unyielding. I worried Thumper would hear judgment where none was meant. But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew my mother wasn’t wrong.

My mate was destroying herself.

Thumper’s voice came again, tight but polite, wrapped in false composure.

“Miss Valor, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself. It’ll take time, but if I just keep working, if I keep fixing things on my own, maybe—”

Rosemary cut her off.

Hard.

“Oh no. No, absolutely not,” she said. “You’re not doing this anymore. We’ve all been talking about how to help you. Even the youngest in the complex offered to look for better jobs for you. You didn’t fail — you shut everyone out.”

That was it.

Something in me snapped — not loud, not violent — but deep and final.

I stepped into the room.

Thumper turned toward me, eyes widening just slightly, like she hadn’t expected to see me there — like she still didn’t believe she was allowed to be wanted.

“Enough,” I said quietly.

The room stilled.

“You collapsed because you’ve been starving yourself of rest, food, and safety,” I continued, my voice steady but tight. “You worked three jobs, walked miles, hid pain, and told no one because somewhere along the way you decided you didn’t deserve help.”

Her lips parted.

“This isn’t independence,” I said. “It’s punishment.”

I moved closer to the bed, careful not to crowd her, but close enough that she couldn’t look away.

“You don’t need to earn the right to be here,” I said. “You already belong. And I will not watch you destroy yourself because you think being loved has to be paid for.”

My mother stayed silent.

Rosemary crossed her arms, nodding once.

And Thumper — my mate — looked at me like she didn’t know whether to cry, argue, or finally rest.

And for the first time since I’d found her…

I realized the fight wasn’t against the world.

It was against the way she saw herself.