Unfair?
1129 Words
Felix gently laid Montserrat onto the hospital bed, his hands trembling as the warmth of her skin—what little was left—faded from his fingertips.
Within seconds, nurses flooded in. One brushed Felix aside with urgency.
“Core temp is 94!” one nurse called out, panic in her voice as she checked the monitor.
“She’s crashing—bring heating blankets, now!” Doctor Peter snapped, peeling off his gloves and rushing out of the room to prep the ICU team.
Felix stood outside the doorway, watching through the glass as they worked to revive her. Everything felt far away, like a sound underwater.
He blinked, then mindlinked his father.
Dad.
It’s Montserrat. She’s in the hospital.
Dean was in the Alpha’s office, mid-conversation with Jairo about Alice’s testimony when the message hit.
“Alpha…” Dean’s voice dropped as he turned to Jairo. “It’s Montserrat.”
Jairo didn’t wait. He was gone before Dean could explain—bolting out of the room so fast the front door slammed against the wall.
Laura, startled, came down the stairs. “What’s going on?”
Dean barely had time to answer. “It’s Montserrat—Felix didn’t say—”
Laura didn’t wait, either. She flew past him and out the door.
By the time Dean arrived at the hospital, Laura and Jairo were already by Montserrat’s bedside. Felix sat in a daze in the waiting area, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
Dean joined his son, voice low. “What happened?”
Felix spoke slowly, haunted. “I was on patrol. I saw this… light. Like moonlight but—wrong. I followed it and found her standing there, still, like she wasn’t breathing. Her eyes were all white. And she was cold, Dad. Not a normal cold. Dead cold.”
Upstairs, the nurses wheeled Montserrat into a private room. Jairo and Laura followed, eyes never leaving her pale face.
Once she was settled, the nurse dipped her head respectfully. “She’s stable, for now.” Then she left.
Laura took Montserrat’s hand—it was still cold. Colder than it should have been. Her lips were regaining some color, but her chest rose and fell like someone sleeping in a nightmare.
Jairo stood in silence, then turned to Felix. His voice was quiet, sharp with controlled panic. “How did this happen?”
Felix repeated his words, slower now, heavier. “There was something in the woods. I don’t know what. But she didn’t move until she collapsed. I swear, she wasn’t breathing. I thought I was too late.”
A nurse entered again, adding more heated blankets. No one spoke.
Word spread quickly. Alice and Ryan arrived at the hospital not long after.
Jairo and Laura didn’t leave her side. Not once.
Morning came, but Montserrat didn’t wake.
A quiet knock came at the door. Alice peeked in. “Good morning…” Her voice cracked. “How is she?”
Laura looked up, her smile soft but tired. “She’s stable. The tests came back clear. But they don’t know what happened. Or why.”
“I’m sorry, Luna,” Alice said.
Laura shook her head. “Don’t be. You’ve done enough. You saved her.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Alice offered. “You should rest.”
Laura stood, stretching. “I’ll find you and Ryan some clothes.”
Alice sat beside Montserrat and gently took her hand. She instantly recoiled.
It was ice. Not the kind from poor circulation or a cold room—this was something unnatural. Holding her felt like touching grief itself.
A soft knock came again. Ryan slipped into the room, catching eyes with his sister. No words were needed. They just stood, watching Montserrat as if willing her to stir.
A nurse entered to check her vitals. She spared a look at Alice and Ryan—one that held quiet judgment. Without Montserrat's protection, things would be different for them. Everyone knew that.
The nurse jotted something down and left, forgetting—or perhaps choosing—not to shut the door all the way.
Back home, Laura prepared food and packed clean clothes. As she stepped out of her room, she overheard voices.
Claudia.
“I told you Alpha Montenegro will be here by noon,” she said, her voice laced with satisfaction. Then she leaned in and kissed Jairo.
Laura watched, unreadable. On the inside, she burned. She had thought of eliminating Claudia more than once. But always chose restraint.
She turned wordlessly to the kitchen, cooking breakfast in silence.
Returning to the hospital, Laura was greeted with polite smiles. Inside the room, Ryan helped unload the things from her arms.
“There’s a shower through that door,” Laura said. “You should both take turns. You’ll feel better.”
It wasn’t just kindness. She wanted to speak to them separately.
Ryan went first. Alice stayed seated.
Laura rolled out the tray of food—egg sandwiches with avocado, cheese, and ham. Orange juice.
“How are you holding up?”
Alice took a long sip, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I’ve had better days,” she muttered. “Thank you, Luna. For all of this.”
“No, thank you,” Laura said gently. “You risked yourself for her. That means everything.”
Ryan returned, clean and wearing clothes a bit too large. Alice slipped into the bathroom next.
Laura sat quietly with Ryan until Jairo entered the room. He nodded to them both before going to Montserrat. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She didn’t stir. Her skin was still cold.
Laura met his eyes. He didn’t need to speak. The fear was etched into every line of his face.
The bathroom door opened. Alice emerged and nodded politely to Jairo. She went to her brother, and again, they exchanged only glances. But those glances held volumes.
Then Doctor Peter arrived.
He checked her vitals, scanned her monitors, and tapped a note into his tablet. His voice was measured.
“Alpha. Luna.” He paused. “We need to begin preparing for the possibility that Montserrat may not wake.”
Laura gasped and turned away, tears falling freely. Jairo caught her, holding her close, his jaw clenched in pain.
Peter continued, though his voice was gentler now.
“At this point… her only real chance may be a mate’s touch. That kind of bond—it can reach her where medicine cannot.”
Ryan and Alice went rigid. Alice turned, slowly, to look at her brother. Then to Montserrat.
Neither of them said a word. But something had shifted.
Something unspoken.Something they weren’t ready to admit.
- Writer
