Farewell, Alpha

In the darkness of my coma, I heard Silas crying.

"Why won't it stop? Goddess, please make it stop..." His voice choked. "Aria, please, don't scare me like this."

I smelled the antiseptic scent of the pack clinic, mixed with the faint odor of wolfsbane.

I heard the senior healer speaking to Silas. "Alpha... she could have made it to spring. If she had kept taking the Fae elixir, she might have lived even longer. But she stopped. She said she couldn't afford it anymore."

"Her internal organs are failing. Without her wolf core, her human body can no longer sustain her life. There is nothing more we can do."

Silas's voice trembled with a lethal edge as he asked lowly, "Are you telling me my mate is dying?"

Before the healer could answer, Silas erupted. "I want my mate alive! You cure her whatever the cost, or I will slaughter every healer in this territory!"

That day, Silas nearly tore the clinic apart.

He airlifted in human specialists, witch doctors, and top healers from neighboring packs. He swore that no matter the price, he would save my life.

But a missing wolf core couldn't be replaced by money or power.

Driven by a manic denial, Silas tried to force my discharge, wanting to take me to the Fae Realm to seek a miracle cure. No one in the hospital dared to stop the enraged Alpha.

Until my best friend, Layla, kicked the doors open.

She slammed a legally binding scroll against Silas's chest. "That's her living will, notarized by the High Council."

I had made my wishes clear a long time ago. If I ended up in a vegetative state, unable to move or eat, they were to let me go. Layla knew how much I despised that kind of suffering.

Layla slapped Silas with all her werewolf strength. He didn't even flinch.

"You have all the wealth in the world, where the fuck were you?!" Layla screamed, pointing in his face. "Playing the devoted mate now?! It's too late, Alpha! She's dying!"

Silas stared blankly at the parchment in her hand, unable to move.

After a long, suffocating silence, he fell to his knees.

"Layla," he begged, his voice cracking. "Let me take her. Please. She can survive. She won't die. If she dies... what am I supposed to do?"

Layla looked down at him, her eyes cold and merciless. "A cold-blooded bastard like you will live just fine without her. Stop pretending to care, it makes me sick."

She pushed past him, sat by my bed, and held my freezing hand. The moment she spoke, she broke down in tears.

"Do you really just want to give up?" she whispered.

Her tears sent a sharp pang through my chest. I wanted to lift my hand and wipe them away. I wanted to tell her not to cry for me. I just wanted to sleep—a long, dreamless sleep, until the end of time, feeling no more pain.

"Can you just wake up one more time?" Layla pleaded, pressing my cold hand to her tear-stained cheek. "You always said we have to say goodbye properly, so there are no regrets."

"You haven't said goodbye to your mom, or to me... How can you be so cruel?"

A single tear slipped from my closed eyelids.

The heart rate monitor suddenly spiked. Healers rushed in, urging Layla to keep talking to me. My soul was fighting against the Goddess's call.

That day, Layla held my hand tightly all day, terrified to even get up for water. She talked to me for hours—laughing through her sobs, scolding me, and then crying all over again.

I had been ready to die. But Layla made it impossible for me to accept it. Leaving her like that filled me with overwhelming guilt.

I waged a brutal war against my decaying body.

Until midnight, when my heavy eyelids finally fluttered open.