Chapter Six: The Bond
2056 Words
They bring Mia into the ceremonial room at dawn. She’s still groggy from the medications, but when she sees me, she reaches out and I take her hand.
“Mama? I’m scared.”
“I know, baby. But Mr. Alexander is going to make you better. I promise.”
Alexander kneels beside the gurney, meeting Mia at eye level. “Hey there, brave girl. You ready?”
She nods, even though her bottom lip trembles.
The pack elder begins chanting in the old language. Alexander’s eyes flash gold as his Alpha rises to the surface. He bites his own wrist, I have to look away for a second, and when I look back, blood is welling from the wound.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he says gently.
Mia obeys.
Alexander presses his wrist to her lips. “Drink.”
There’s Alpha power in the command and Mia’s throat moves as she swallows. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then the glow starts.
A strong warmth grows in the room, faint at first, then growing stronger. It wraps around Mia like a warm blanket and I can see it workingcolor returning to her cheeks, her breathing easing.
“It’s taking,” the elder says, satisfaction in her voice. “The bond is established.”
Alexander pulls his wrist away and the wound heals instantly. But the glow remains, pulsing gently around Mia.
“She’s going to be okay,” he says, and there’s exhaustion in his voice but also triumph.
I’m crying. I can’t help it.
Dr. Harrison checks Mia thoroughly. “The bond took perfectly. Her body is already responding. This is exactly what we wanted to see.”
Relief crashes over me so hard I have to sit down.
It worked.
That evening, after Mia falls asleep in her hospital bed with the golden glow still pulsing softly around her, I remember my promise.
I pull out my phone and stare at Nick’s contact for a long moment.
I said I’d send one text. Just one.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. Part of me wants to ignore the promise, pretend I never made it. But another part,the part that saw the raw fear in his eyes when Mia was seizing, can’t do that to him.
He’s her father. Even if I hate him. Even if I can never forgive him. He deserves to know she’s okay.
I type quickly before I can change my mind.
*The bond worked. She’s stable. You don’t need to contact us again.*
I hit send and immediately turn off my phone.
I don’t want to see if he responds. Don’t want to know what he might say.
It’s done. I kept my word.
And now Nick can go back to his life, and I can focus on mine.
On Mia.
On moving forward without him.
The first few days are like a dream.
Mia gets stronger with every passing hour. By that afternoon, she’s sitting up in bed, asking for her favorite foods. By evening, she’s laughing at cartoons.
Alexander comes every morning and evening like clockwork, reinforcing the bond. I watch the golden glow pulse brighter each time, watch Mia’s face light up when she sees him.
“Mr. Alexander! Can we play the dinosaur game?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
They settle on the floor of her hospital room and I lean against the doorway, watching them. Alexander is patient and kind, making dinosaur sounds that send Mia into fits of giggles.
This is working. She’s going to be okay.
Dr. Harrison clears Mia to go home after three days. “Alpha Hunt needs to maintain daily contact. At least twice a day for the next several weeks. Don’t miss visits.”
“I won’t,” Alexander promises. “I’ll be there.”
We fall into a routine.
Alexander arrives every morning at eight, spends two hours with Mia before heading to work. He returns at six for dinner and bedtime stories.
I watch him read to her, his deep voice gentle as he does different character voices. Mia curls against his side, the golden glow of their bond visible if I look closely enough.
“And then the princess said, ‘I can save myself, thank you very much,’” Alexander reads, and Mia giggles.
“I like that princess. She’s brave like me.”
“She is brave like you,” Alexander agrees.
When he tucks her in and kisses her forehead, something in my chest aches. This is what a father should be. Present. Patient. Kind.
This is what Mia deserves.
One week after the bonding ceremony, I take her to the park. It’s early December, cold but sunny, and Mia is bouncing with energy.
“Mama, can I go on the swings?”
“Of course, baby.”
She runs ahead and I follow, my heart lighter than it’s been in months. She looks so healthy, so normal. Like the past three months of terror never happened.
I push her on the swings and she laughs, reaching for the sky.
“Higher, Mama!”
My phone buzzes. Alexander.
*Running 15 minutes late. Traffic. Be there soon.*
*No problem. We’re at the park.*
I settle on a bench to watch Mia play. She’s making friends with other kids, running and jumping like any normal six-year-old. The golden glow is still there, faint but present.
Twenty minutes later, Alexander’s car pulls up. He gets out looking concerned, checking his watch.
“Sorry I’m late. Accident on the highway.” He scans the playground for Mia. “How is she?”
“Perfect. Look at her.”
But Alexander’s frown deepens as he watches her. His eyes flash gold briefly.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The bond feels… different.”
“Different how?”
“Weaker. Like it’s fading.” He stands abruptly. “I need to reinforce it. Now.”
Fear spikes through me. “But you were just with her this morning. The bond was fine.”
“I know. But something’s wrong.”
He walks quickly to where Mia is playing. I follow, my heart starting to pound.
Alexander kneels beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder. His eyes flash gold again as he tries to push more of his wolf into her.
Then his face goes pale.
“Mia, sweetheart, how do you feel?”
“Good! I was just on the monkey bars and—” She stops mid-sentence.
Sways on her feet.
“Mama?”
I’m already reaching for her.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“My chest hurts.”
No. Not again.
Alexander’s hands are on her shoulders and I can see him desperately trying to strengthen the bond, his whole body tense with concentration, Alpha power rolling off him in waves.
“It’s not taking,” he says, voice tight with panic. “The bond—it’s like her body is rejecting it.”
“What do you mean rejecting it? You’ve been here every day!”
“I don’t know. It was fine this morning. I don’t—”
Mia starts coughing.
That wet, rattling cough that I’d prayed I’d never hear again.
“No. No, not again.”
She coughs harder and blood appears on her lips.
“MIA!”
Alexander scoops her up as her eyes roll back and her small body starts seizing.
“My car. Now.”
We’re running across the park. Other parents are staring but I don’t care. Alexander puts Mia in the backseat and I climb in beside her as he peels out of the parking lot.
He’s on his phone, one hand on the wheel. “This is Alpha Hunt. Pediatric patient, six years old, genetic rejection syndrome. The Alpha bond is catastrophically failing. We’re ten minutes out.”
Mia is seizing in my arms and there’s blood coming from her nose now too. The golden glow that’s been around her for a week is flickering like a dying lightbulb, fading with each passing second.
“What’s happening?” I’m asking Alexander, my voice shrill with panic. “You’ve done everything right! You haven’t missed a single visit!”
“I don’t know.” He sounds wrecked. “The bond was strong this morning. I reinforced it like always. I don’t understand—”
The hospital appears and Alexander screeches into the emergency bay. Doctors and nurses are already waiting with a gurney.
They take Mia from my arms and rush her inside.
Dr. Harrison appears, her face grave as Alexander explains what happened.
“The bond just failed. No warning. I reinforced it this morning and it was strong. Then six hours later it was like her body started rejecting it.”
Something flickers across Dr. Harrison’s face. Something that looks almost like she expected this.
“Stabilize her,” she tells the medical team. “I’ll be right there.”
She turns to us. “I need to speak with you both. Now.”
We’re in a quiet hallway. Alexander is pacing. I’m frozen, trying not to fall apart.
“I warned you this could happen,” Dr. Harrison says gently. “Non-biological bonds are inherently weaker, even with perfect maintenance. Sometimes the body just knows. It recognizes that this isn’t the right wolf.”
“But it was working,” I whisper.
“For a week. Some non-biological bonds last weeks, even months. But they almost always fail eventually for cases as severe as Mia’s. Her condition is too advanced.”
“Can we try again? Reestablish Alexander’s bond?”
“We can try. But each time the bond fails and has to be reestablished, it gets weaker. And at this point…” She shakes her head. “I don’t think her body will accept it again.”
“What are you saying?”
“You need to use the biological father’s bond. Now. Before her body rejects the concept of an Alpha bond entirely.”
“No.”
“Emily—” Alexander starts.
“No! There has to be another way—”
“There isn’t.” Dr. Harrison’s voice is firm. “You have hours at most. Her biological father’s bond will be recognized on a genetic level. Her body won’t reject it the way it’s rejecting Alpha Hunt’s.”
“How long do I have to decide?”
“Hours. Maybe less.”
She leaves us alone in the hallway.
Alexander leans against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. “I did everything right and it still wasn’t enough.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow.
“Call him,” Alexander says quietly. “Please. Don’t let my failure cost Mia her life.”
My phone is in my hand before I consciously decide to pick it up.
Nick’s contact information. Still there after six years. Never deleted.
My thumb hovers over the call button.
This is it. The moment where I have to choose between my pride and my daughter’s life.
My hand shakes as I press call.
It rings once. Twice.
“Emily?” Nick’s voice is cautious, surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s sick again.” The words come out broken. “Alexander’s bond is failing and I… I need you. Please. I need you to save her.”
Silence on the other end.
Then: “I’m on my way. Don’t let them do anything until I get there. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
No hesitation. No gloating. Just immediate action.
And for the first time in six years, something in my chest thaws just a little.
“And Em?”
I stay silent, but he can hear my breathing.
“No matter what happened between us, I won’t stop trying to make it up to you and Mia.”
He hangs up.
I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor beside Alexander, and for the first time since this nightmare started, I let myself completely fall apart.
Alexander puts his arm around me while I sob.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Nick will save her.”
But I can’t stop crying because saving Mia means letting Nick back into our lives.
And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive that twice.
- Writer
