Bled Dry for His First Love

"The standard donor registry can source a match by tomorrow morning," Mira said, locking the clinic door behind us. "Sienna is in an acute crisis, yes. But your Moon Blood is merely the fastest shortcut, not the only cure."

"And the risk to me?" I asked, gripping the edge of the metal examination table.

"You are ten weeks pregnant, Lena," Mira replied, her medical tablet glowing in the dim room. "A heavy volume draw right now invites severe uterine bleeding. You could lose the fetus. I will not recommend it."

"I will authorize a minimal, emergency draw only," I stated, keeping my voice level. "No dangerous volumes. And I sign the consent forms, nobody else."

The door handle rattled, then shoved open.

Carter stood in the doorway. His fingers crushed the edges of my prenatal intake sheet. He must have found it at the nurse's station. His eyes darted from the bolded text at the top of the page, straight to my stomach.

"Is this true?" he asked, his voice entirely hollow.

He took a step forward, his hand raising toward my waist. I took a step back. His arm dropped to his side.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"I planned to announce it at the moon banquet," I replied. "But you were too busy rearranging the seating chart for your guest."

Carter stared at me, his jaw working as he processed the information. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I waited for the joy. I waited for him to ask if I felt sick, or if we were having a girl this time.

Instead, he turned to the doctor.

"Mira said you are the only absolute match in the Blackthorn registry." Carter looked back at me. "How much can you give without hurting the child?"

My stomach plummeted. Less than sixty seconds. That was exactly how long it took my husband to learn about our new baby before calculating how much blood he could drain from me.

"Any extraction carries a threat," Mira interjected, crossing her arms. "Lena's stress levels are elevated. Her pregnancy symptoms are severe. Safe does not mean risk-free."

"I am refusing the large volume draw," I told him. "I will give the baseline emergency amount if Mira approves it. Nothing more."

Carter's shoulders tensed. "Sienna might not survive the wait for an external donor."

"She will have to."

"Are you really doing this?" he asked, his tone hardening into an accusation. "Are you letting her die just to punish me for our past arguments?"

"I am protecting my child."

"You are holding a grudge!" Carter shouted, stepping closer. "She is bleeding out down the hall, and you are rationing the one thing that can save her."

I held my ground, forcing him to meet my gaze. "If I were the one crashing in that hospital bed, and Sienna was carrying your child, would you demand she risk a miscarriage to save me?"

Carter flinched. He looked at the floor, then at the wall.

"The situation is different," he muttered.

Those four words severed the final thread holding us together. We were no longer a unified front. We were just two people standing in a sterile room, negotiating a tragedy.

Small footsteps slapped against the linoleum outside. Eli squeezed past Carter's legs and sprinted into the room.

"Nurse Sarah said you have a baby," Eli panted, staring up at me with wide eyes. "Do you?"

"Yes," I said softly.

Eli reached out and pressed his small palm flat against my stomach. "Is it a brother? Can he play shift-tag?"

For a fraction of a second, a genuine smile broke across Carter's face. He leaned down, placing his hand over Eli's. We were a family again.

Then, a ragged, agonizing scream echoed from the corridor.

"Aunt Sienna!" Eli yelled.

He yanked his hand away from my stomach and bolted out the door. Carter did not even hesitate. He spun on his heel and sprinted after our son.

I stood alone by the examination table. My hand hovered in the empty space where Eli had just been. I slowly lowered my arm to my side. They knew about the baby now, yet they still placed us second. I did not chase them. I stayed exactly where I was.

Ten minutes later, I walked into Recovery Room Three.

Sienna lay on the narrow cot, her skin the color of old parchment. The heart monitor beeped in a frantic, uneven rhythm.

"Lena," Sienna rasped, turning her head on the pillow. "Carter told me about the baby. Congratulations."

I did not respond.

"Do not use her blood," Sienna told Carter, her voice barely a whisper. "I would rather wait. Do not force her."

"Nobody is forcing anyone," Carter said, wiping a damp cloth across her forehead.

Sienna turned her gaze to Eli, who stood trembling by the bed rail. She reached out and wrapped her pale fingers around his wrist.

"I am just so scared to fall asleep," she whimpered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "What if I never get to see you grow up, Eli?"

My son's face drained of all color. He looked at Sienna, then slowly turned his head to look at me. His eyes were devoid of their usual warmth. It was the cold, calculating glare of a wolf assessing a threat. He believed I possessed the power to save his favorite person, and I was choosing to let her suffer.

Mira walked into the room, carrying a silver clipboard. She placed two separate medical directives on the rolling tray table.

"Plan A," Mira announced, tapping the left sheet. "We request an outside pack donor. The absolute fastest transport time is twelve hours."

She tapped the right sheet. "Plan B. We use Lena's Moon Blood for an immediate, large-volume stabilization draw."

Mira handed a black pen to Carter.

He stared at the two pieces of paper. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the plastic barrel of the pen.

He did not sign the outside donor request. He did not sign my medical waiver.

Instead, Carter turned around and pushed the pen across the metal tray, stopping it right in front of my hand.

"Twelve hours," he whispered, his golden eyes locking onto mine. "Can you really gamble her life on that?"