Chapter 3
519 Words
The weather was deceptively beautiful that day—clear skies, sunlight spilling like gold over the snow. My parents had just returned home, their voices warm with laughter as they sat at the wooden table, chatting about the mate bonding ceremony in the Bone Howl Pack. They were relaxed, content, so alive.
They didn’t know I was pregnant.
But even without that news, they were already glowing. After two grueling years, the shop transfer agreement had finally been signed. Finally, there would be enough funds to carry us through the winter.
I lingered on the balcony, watching them talk animatedly, my heart torn between joy and hesitation. Should I tell them now? Should I share that another life was growing inside me?
My phone buzzed. A voice message from an unknown number.
I pressed play.
John’s voice spilled out, low and weary.
“…Susan can’t hold on. The doctor said she needs a matching blood source. Her condition’s… unusual. Only fetal blood can help her. Mary’s still pregnant, right?”
The blood drained from my face.
After a pause, another voice, unfamiliar, replied cautiously:
“But Mary already miscarried once. You know her body’s fragile… won’t this endanger her?”
John’s voice broke slightly, but not for me.
“I know. I don’t want to hurt her either. But Susan needs this. And Mary’s blood—it’s pure, it’s safe. I don’t trust anyone else. I don’t have another choice.”
A long sigh, then the words that carved into me like a blade:
“Mary loves me. She’ll understand. It’s just a little blood. She’ll agree.”
My hands trembled. I replied to the message once. Twice. A third time. Each repetition drove the knife deeper, until rage coiled tight in my chest, so sharp it stole my breath. My fingers went numb around the phone, my teeth grinding until my jaw ached.
Downstairs, my parents’ laughter drifted upward, sweet and oblivious. They were still teasing each other, telling stories—how Tom had sung off-key at the ceremony, how the others had pinned him down and made him drink fruit wine until his beard was dripping.
Their voices were so full of life, of warmth, of joy. And I stood above them in silence, my world collapsing.
The pup I had longed for, prayed for, cherished; John saw it only as a tool. A vessel to save her.
Susan’s life mattered more than my child’s. More than mine.
That was the moment something inside me shattered.
I went to the hospital alone that night and booked the earliest surgery I could.
The surgical light above me was blinding, sterile, merciless.
The doctor slid a consent form across the table. His eyes softened as he asked, “Where’s your mate?”
I lowered my gaze to the paper, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.
“He won’t come. He’s busy… with someone else.”
The doctor was quiet for a long moment, then pushed the pen toward me.
“You still need to sign.”
And I did. With a hand that barely stopped shaking.
- Writer
