Rejected Mate's Revival

The metallic scent of blood mingled with dust and smoke as I knelt beside my father's body. His eyes, once bright with laughter, now stared emptily at the ceiling of our shattered home. My hands trembled as I reached for his face, hoping to find some spark of life, some miracle that would make this nightmare disappear.

"Dad," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please wake up."

But he couldn't hear me anymore. The rogues had made sure of that.

I turned toward my mother, lying unconscious across the room, her head surrounded by a pool of crimson. Her breathing came in shallow gasps that terrified me with each labored rise of her chest.

"Mom," I choked out, crawling to her side. "Stay with me. Please stay with me."

I didn't know how long I knelt there, tears streaming down my face, before the sound of heavy footsteps made me look up. Warriors in uniform filled the doorway of what remained of our living room. Behind them stood a tall figure whose presence commanded immediate attention.

Tyler Montgomery. Future Alpha of the Montgomery Pack.

His eyes swept over the destruction before landing on me. The moment our gazes locked, something electric surged through my body. A warmth spread from my chest outward, despite the cold terror gripping my heart. His eyes widened slightly—he felt it too.

"MATE," his wolf's voice echoed in his mind, though I couldn't hear it then.

"April," he said softly, crossing the room with deliberate steps. "I'm so sorry."

I didn't understand why this stranger knew my name, but his voice somehow steadied me as he knelt beside me. Guilt flashed across his features before he masked it with concern.

"Your mother needs immediate medical attention," he said, already signaling to his warriors. "Our pack has the best healers in the region."

---

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and wolfsbane—though I didn't recognize the latter scent then. My mother lay motionless, tubes and monitors surrounding her bed.

"The brain damage is extensive," Dr. Cross explained gently. "Her wolf is severely weakened."

I nodded numbly, unable to process anything beyond the fact that my father was gone and my mother might never wake up.

"I've arranged for round-the-clock care," Tyler said, his hand warm on my shoulder. "She'll receive the best treatment possible."

Over the following weeks, Tyler visited daily. He brought me meals I barely touched, sat with me through endless nights of waiting, and held my hand when the doctors delivered grim updates.

"Your mother's wolf is showing signs of distress," Dr. Cross mentioned one afternoon. "We're doing everything we can."

I didn't see Tyler slip into the room later that evening, adding a small amount of powdery substance to my mother's IV. I didn't notice how his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted her medication.

"What are you doing?" a nurse asked, entering unexpectedly.

"Just checking on her," Tyler replied smoothly. "As Alpha, I want to ensure everything possible is being done."

The nurse