For His First Love's Leg, the Alpha Stripped Me of My Right to Be a Mother

I disconnected the monitor myself.

The machine shrieked when I pulled the leads from my chest, but I kept moving. I needed my surgical chart, the emergency authorization, anything that explained why the only regenerative dose in our territory had vanished while I was being cut open.

My bare feet touched the cold floor.

Pain knifed through my abdomen. I gripped the bedrail until the room stopped tilting.

The door opened before I could take a second step.

"Mom!"

Noah ran in holding a tablet above his head.

He was seven, all dark hair and bright eyes, with Damon's stubborn mouth and Vanessa's sharp cheekbones. I had raised him since he was four. I had defended him when pack elders called him an illegitimate heir. I had sat beside his bed through fevers, learned every food he hated, and sewn his school crest onto three uniforms because he kept tearing the first two.

He did not notice the blood seeping through my bandage.

"Look," he said excitedly. "They fixed her."

The video showed Vanessa between parallel bars in the physical therapy room. Her right calf was wrapped in white bandages, but she stood on both feet while a therapist hovered nearby.

"Dad said the serum worked really fast," Noah continued. "Aunt Vanessa thought they were going to cut her leg off, but now she can walk."

The black vial in my fist seemed to grow heavier.

"The serum?"

"Yeah." He pointed to the screen. "Isn't it amazing?"

I watched Vanessa shift her weight without flinching.

Noah grinned. "You still have two legs, Mom. Aunt Vanessa only gets two too, so Dad had to save hers."

I forgot how to breathe.

The words were childish logic, but someone had given him the pieces.

You still have two legs.

As if that balanced the dead child inside my memory. As if losing my womb was a lesser injury because no one could see it when I walked.

"Noah," Damon said sharply from the doorway. "Enough."

He crossed the room, took the tablet, and shut off the video.

Noah frowned. "I was just showing her."

"Go find Elias downstairs."

"But -"

"Now."

Noah trudged out, muttering under his breath.

Damon waited until the door closed. Then he looked at the empty vial in my hand.

His expression changed.

I held it up. "Tell me I found the wrong bottle."

He said nothing.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"Aria, sit down. You're bleeding through the dressing."

"Did you give it to Vanessa?"

He reached for me.

I slapped his hand away.

"Did you give her the serum?"

"Yes."

The simple answer was worse than another lie.

I leaned against the bed because my knees were shaking. "Why?"

"Her leg was trapped under the dashboard. She couldn't move her foot. The emergency team believed the femur was crushed."

"Believed?"

"There wasn't time for a full consult."

"So you gave her the rarest medicine in the territory before anyone had even assessed me?"

His shoulders squared. Alpha Damon appeared where my husband should have been.

"I had two emergencies and one dose. The surgeons told me they could keep you alive with conventional treatment. Vanessa was facing permanent disability."

"Our baby was alive when I reached the hospital."

He flinched.

"I heard the fetal monitor in the ambulance," I said. "I heard the heartbeat."

"It was unstable."

"It was there."

"Aria -"

"You chose her leg over our child."

"I chose the outcome with the highest chance of saving both patients."

I laughed, then pressed a hand to my stitches when pain tore through me.

"You saved Vanessa's mobility and my pulse. That's not the same thing."

"You are alive."

"Without my baby. Without the chance to carry another."

Damon dragged a hand through his hair. "We can use a surrogate. We can adopt. There are options."

I stared at him.

He had already moved on to replacements.

A surrogate. Adoption. A solution to the inconvenience of my grief.

A surgeon I recognized from the operating room appeared in the doorway with a chart. She stopped when she saw us arguing.

"Luna Aria, I need to check your incision."

"Before you do," I said, "what time did you decide on the hysterectomy?"

Damon turned sharply. "Aria."

The surgeon looked between us. "The decision was made at 8:17 p.m., after the second round of transfusions failed to control the hemorrhage."

"And the serum was released when?"

Her expression changed. "I was told it had already been allocated to another trauma patient before you entered surgery."

Damon said nothing.

That timeline mattered. The vial had not been an impossible last-second choice between two operating tables. He had given it away before anyone knew how much of me the surgeons would have to remove.

"I wanted the child I was carrying."

"And I wanted all of us to survive the crash," he snapped. "I didn't cause the truck to hit us. I made the best decision available."

"Did you read Vanessa's scans?"

"What?"

"Before you used the serum. Did you read her scans?"

"I saw the wreck."

"That's not what I asked."

He looked toward the door.

There it was again - that fraction of hesitation.

"The doctors said amputation was possible," he replied.

"Which doctor?"

"Evans."

"And you verified it?"

"I am not a surgeon."

"No. You're an Alpha. You're supposed to know the difference between evidence and panic."

His eyes flashed gold. "Watch your tone."

Something inside me went quiet.

Not the numbness from medication. Something cleaner.

For three years, I had softened every conflict because I loved him. I had accepted Vanessa at pack functions because she was Noah's biological mother. I had swallowed every whisper that said Damon had only married me because Vanessa left. I had believed that, when it mattered, he would choose the family we built.

Now I knew exactly how much that belief was worth.

I opened my fist and let the vial drop.

It shattered on the floor between us.

Damon stared at the black glass.

"Stay away from me," I said.

"You need help back into bed."

"Not from you."

I pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. I had taken only three painful steps when a nurse hurried toward me with a wheelchair.

Behind me, Damon said my name.

I did not turn around.

For the first time since becoming his mate, I heard his voice and felt no instinct to obey.