My Mate Wanted Our Son’s Marrow to Save Him

The last customer had left an hour ago, leaving only the scent of lavender and sage lingering in my apothecary. I moved methodically through the shop, counting the day's earnings and organizing the herbal remedies I'd prepared. Five years of building this life from nothing had taught me the value of routine—of knowing exactly where everything belonged.

As I turned the key in the lock, a chill crept up my spine. Something wasn't right.

I froze, my hand still on the doorknob. The street outside was quiet, with only the distant hum of Seattle traffic breaking the evening silence. But there was something else—something that made my wolf stir uneasily within me.

An aura. Familiar. Decaying.

"Scarlett."

The voice hit me like a physical blow. I knew it instantly, though it was raspier than I remembered, stripped of its former commanding power.

I turned slowly, my Luna aura flaring instinctively as protection. There, standing on my porch, were the last two people I ever wanted to see again.

Kingston Price. My former mate. The man who had once been the center of my world.

And beside him, Edith Baker. His mother. The woman whose perfect smile had hidden so many poisonous secrets.

"Alpha Price," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "What an unexpected surprise."

He wasn't the majestic Alpha I remembered. His once-powerful frame was gaunt, his skin sallow. But it was his eyes that shocked me most—hollow, desperate, and haunted by pain that went beyond physical suffering.

"We need to talk," Edith said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "May we come in?"

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "Whatever you have to say, say it here."

Kingston swayed slightly, as if standing required all his remaining strength. Then, to my astonishment, he lowered himself to his knees on my porch. Edith hesitated only a moment before following suit.

"Please," Kingston whispered, the word clearly foreign on his tongue. "Our son... Cade... he's our only hope."

I felt my wolf bristle at the mention of Cade's name in his mouth. "My son," I corrected coldly. "You lost any right to call him that five years ago."

"We know we have no right to ask," Edith interjected, her voice taking on a practiced tremor. "But Kingston is dying. The cellular decay in his wolf—it's terminal. Cade is his only compatible donor."

I studied them both, these powerful werewolves reduced to begging on my doorstep. Once, I might have felt satisfaction at their fall. Now, I felt nothing but cold determination.

"No," I said simply.

Kingston's face crumpled. "Scarlett, please. I know I don't deserve—"

"You think you don't deserve it?" I cut him off, my Luna aura surging forward. "Let me remind you of what you deserve, Kingston."

I stepped closer, letting my aura press against his weakened one. "When Cade was six months old, he developed a fever that wouldn't break. His wolf was struggling to form, and I sent you