Chapter 19

My Cheating Mate

Emma pov

The beeping was what pulled me back first. Steady, rhythmic, mechanical. Then came the voices—low, serious, achingly familiar.

My father. And Alpha Richard.

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. My entire body ached, a deep, bone-tired pain that suggested I'd been unconscious for a while.

"—lost a lot of blood," Alpha Richard was saying. "The doctors aren't sure he'll make it through the night."

My heart stuttered. Who? Who wouldn't make it?

"How many bullets did they pull out of him?" My father's voice was rough with emotion.

"Three. Plus the silver blade wound, the bites, the claw marks from the first attack. Marcus, he fought like he had nothing to lose. Like he wanted to die protecting the pack."

Protecting the pack. Bullets. Silver blade.

Jeremy.

They were talking about Jeremy.

I forced my eyes open. The fluorescent hospital lights made me squint, but I pushed through the discomfort, turning my head toward the voices.

My father and Alpha Richard stood by the window, their backs to me, both looking worn and exhausted. How long had I been out?

"Emma's awake," a nurse said from somewhere to my left. She must have been monitoring my vitals.

Both men turned immediately. My father was at my side in seconds, his hand finding mine with desperate gentleness.

"Emma. Thank the Moon Goddess." His voice cracked. "How do you feel, baby girl?"

"Like I got stabbed with silver," I croaked, my throat dry and painful. "Which I guess I did."

"Three days ago," the nurse said, checking my IV. "You've been unconscious for three days. The silver poisoning was severe, but we managed to extract all the fragments and flush your system. You're going to be okay."

Three days. I'd been out for three days.

"Jeremy," I said, looking at my father. "I heard you talking. He's... he's critical?"

Something flickered across my father's face. Surprise, maybe, that I was asking about Jeremy. Or concern about what my interest meant.

"He is," Alpha Richard said, moving closer to my bed. "Emma, he saved your life. When Vanessa tried to finish you off while you were down, Jeremy fought off six rogues while bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. He wouldn't let anyone near you until he collapsed from blood loss."

Six rogues. Multiple gunshot wounds. The memory was hazy, but I remembered pain, remembered the silver blade, remembered pushing Jeremy out of the way—

And then nothing.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"ICU. Two floors up." My father's grip on my hand tightened. "Emma, you don't have to—"

"I want to see him."

Silence. Both men exchanged glances.

"Sweetheart, you're barely awake yourself," my father said carefully. "You need to rest, to heal—"

"I want to see him," I repeated, more firmly this time. "Please, Dad."

Alpha Richard studied me for a long moment. "Why? After everything he did to you, why do you care if he lives or dies?"

It was a fair question. One I'd been asking myself in the seconds since I'd woken up.

I thought about the last three months. About avoiding Jeremy at pack meetings, ignoring him during training sessions, building a life that didn't include him even though we shared the same territory.

I'd been happy. Or at least, I'd convinced myself I was happy. I'd thrown myself into Beta training with my father, into teaching self-defense to young wolves, into proving that I didn't need a mate to be strong or valuable.

And I didn't. I'd proven that.

But lying here, knowing Jeremy had fought to protect me even while dying himself, knowing he'd taken bullets meant for me just like I'd taken a blade meant for him—

The mate bond might be dissolved, but something still connected us. Something deeper than the Moon Goddess's magic, deeper than betrayal or hurt or three months of carefully constructed distance.

"Because he's pack," I said finally. "Because he protected our wolves. Because—" I paused, trying to find the words. "Because I'm not ready for him to die. Not like this. Not before I can tell him that I—"

I stopped. Tell him what? That I forgave him? I wasn't sure I did. That I still loved him? That was too complicated to think about right now.

"That I understand why he did it," I finished. "Why he fought so hard. I need him to know that I understand."

My father's expression softened. "Okay. Okay, baby girl. Let me talk to the doctors, see if they'll allow a visit."

After he left, Alpha Richard moved closer, his weathered face showing every one of his sixty years.

"Emma, I need you to know something," he said quietly. "What Jeremy did to you was unforgivable. As his father, I'm ashamed. As your Alpha, I'm furious. But these past three months, watching him struggle, watching him take responsibility—" He paused. "He's been drowning in guilt and regret. And when those rogues attacked, when Vanessa came back, something in him just... broke. Or maybe healed. I'm not sure which."

"What happened to Vanessa?" I asked.

"In custody. She'll stand trial for hiring rogues to attack pack members, for leading the assault, for attempted murder." His expression darkened. "She's facing permanent exile or execution. The council will decide."

Good. Vanessa had tried to destroy everything—our pack, our bonds, our lives. She deserved whatever punishment came.

"The rogues?" I asked.

"Most escaped. We killed seven, captured three. They're being questioned about who else might have been involved, whether there are more attacks planned."

My father returned with a doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

"Ms. Smith, I'm Dr. Reeves. You're healing remarkably well considering the severity of your injury, but you're still weak. A short visit to ICU is acceptable, but only if you agree to use a wheelchair and limit yourself to ten minutes."

"Deal," I said immediately.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a wheelchair outside Jeremy's ICU room, staring through the glass at his unconscious form.

He looked terrible. His skin was gray-pale, dark circles under his eyes. Tubes and wires connected him to multiple machines. Bandages covered most of his torso, his shoulder, his thigh.

"The next twenty-four hours are critical," Dr. Reeves said quietly. "He lost an enormous amount of blood. His body has been through significant trauma. Right now, we're just trying to keep him stable."

"Can I go in?" I asked.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Ten minutes. And if any of his monitors alarm, you leave immediately."

My father wheeled me into the room. The beeping of Jeremy's heart monitor filled the silence—steady but weaker than it should be.

I reached out and took his hand. It was cold, limp, nothing like the strong grip I remembered.

"Hey," I said softly, not sure if he could hear me. Not sure what I even wanted to say.

His fingers twitched. Just barely, but I felt it.

"Jeremy, it's Emma. I'm—" My voice caught. "I'm okay. The silver's out. I'm healing. And you need to heal too, okay? You need to fight. The pack needs you. Your father needs you."

*I need you,* I didn't say. Because I wasn't ready to admit that yet. Not even to myself.

But I squeezed his hand tighter, willing him to feel it, to know that I was here.

That I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.