Rowen's death

Rowen’s breathing sounds wrong.

I notice it before the healer does. Before the machines. Before the guards outside the door shift their weight and pretend not to listen.

It is shallow. Too fast. Like he is running somewhere he cannot reach.

I press my palm to his chest and whisper his name.

Rowen.

Hey.

I am here.

His eyes flutter open. They are gray like mine. Dorian’s too, but softer.

“Mom,” he says. His voice is thin. Like it hurts to push the sound out.

“Yep. I am here,” I tell him. “You did good waking up.”

He gives me a small smile. He always tries to smile when I look worried. Like he thinks it is his job to make me feel better.

It should never have been his job.

The healer clears her throat behind me. I do not turn around.

“She should be here by now,” I say quietly.

The healer does not answer. She does not need to. We both know who I mean.

I lift Rowen slightly so his head rests better against my arm. He is lighter than he should be. Too light for a boy of eight. Too light for a wolf cub.

The window beside the bed shows the pack grounds. Everything looks normal outside. Guards walking their routes. Lights on in the main house. The world does not look like it is ending.

Inside this room, it already has.

“Mom,” Rowen whispers again.

“Huh,” I answer, leaning closer.

“Did Dad say he was coming?”

There it is.

The question he always asks. The one I keep answering with lies that taste worse every time.

I swallow. My throat burns.

“He is busy,” I say. “But he knows you are here.”

Rowen nods like that explanation makes sense. Like it always does.

“Oh,” he says. Then, after a second, “Okay.”

His fingers curl weakly into my sleeve. I feel the tremor in them.

I look at the clock on the wall. The numbers blur. I have been watching them for hours. Watching time move forward while Dorian stays exactly where he wants to be.

At his company.

In his meetings.

Anywhere but here.

The healer steps closer. Her voice is careful. Too careful.

“Luna,” she says softly. “His wolf is struggling to stabilize.”

I laugh. A small sound escapes me before I can stop it.

“Struggling,” I repeat. “That is a nice word.”

She looks at the floor.

“Can you do something else,” I ask. “Try again. Please.”

She hesitates. “We already used the strongest methods allowed without Alpha authorization.”

I turn to her then. Slowly. My hands are shaking but my voice stays steady.

“He is eight,” I say. “Authorization should not matter.”

Her eyes flicker with guilt. “I sent messages. Several.”

“Yep,” I say. “I know.”

I sent them too.

Rowen shifts slightly. His breathing stutters. I feel it before I hear it.

“Mom,” he murmurs. “It hurts.”

“I know,” I say quickly. “I know. Just stay with me, okay. Breathe slow like we practiced.”

He tries. I can see him trying. His chest rises unevenly.

The mark on my neck burns. It has been burning all day. A low constant ache that pulses with every shallow breath my son takes.

The mate bond knows.

It always knows.

And still, it does nothing.

I press my forehead to Rowen’s hair. He smells like chamomile and the faint metallic scent of magic.

“I am here,” I whisper again. “You are not alone.”

He is quiet for a moment.

Then he says, very softly, “Did I do something wrong?”

My heart cracks. Not loudly. Not all at once. It splinters in small precise places.

“No,” I say immediately. “No. Never.”

His eyes search my face. He looks scared. Confused.

“Then why is my wolf broken,” he asks.

I do not have an answer that will not destroy him.

The healer turns away. She pretends to adjust the IV line. I know that sound too. The sound of someone giving space for grief they cannot fix.

I smooth Rowen’s hair back. My fingers linger on his temple.

“Your wolf is tired,” I say. “That is all. You have been very strong for a long time.”

He hums softly. Like he is thinking.

“I tried,” he says. “I really tried.”

“I know you did,” I tell him. “You did more than anyone should have to.”

His small hand squeezes mine suddenly. “Mom… I’m sorry. If I ever hurt you. If I ever made it harder…” His voice falters. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. I press my lips to his hair. “Baby, don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You are my heart. You are my joy. You never hurt me.”

He exhales shakily, eyes brimming. “I love you, Mom… I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, holding him tighter. “More than anything. Always.”

The door opens behind us.

I turn so fast my neck hurts.

Hope flares in my chest for half a second. It dies just as quickly.

It is not Dorian.

It is one of his assistants from the company. A young man in a tailored suit who looks wildly out of place in a healer ward.

“Luna Selene,” he says, clearing his throat. “The Alpha asked me to inform you that he will be delayed.”

Something inside me goes very still.

“Delayed,” I repeat.

“Yes,” he says. “There was an unexpected development in the merger. He sends his regards.”

Regards.

I stare at him. I want to scream. I want to rip the mate mark from my skin with my own hands.

Instead, I nod.

“Okay,” I say. My voice sounds distant to my own ears. “You can go.”

He hesitates. Looks uncomfortable.

“He said to tell you he will come as soon as he can.”

“Yep,” I say again. “Thank you.”

He leaves.

The door clicks shut.

Rowen watches me. He is always watching me. Always checking.

“Is he coming later,” he asks.

I open my mouth.

Nothing comes out.

I close it again.

I sit on the edge of the bed and pull him closer to me.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Look at me.”

He does.

His eyes are glassy now. The gray looks lighter. Fading.

“You are my greatest thing,” I tell him. “Do you hear me. My greatest thing.”

He blinks slowly.

“Even if I am weak,” he asks.

“Especially because you are gentle,” I say. “That is not weakness.”

He breathes out. A small relieved sound.

The machines begin to beep faster.

The healer rushes forward. Her hands move quickly now.

“Rowen,” she says firmly. “Stay with us.”

I feel it then.

The bond. The magic. The pull that snaps tight like a wire.

Rowen gasps.

His fingers clutch my arm. Harder than he has all day.

“Mom,” he whispers. Panic floods his voice. “I do not want to go.”

“I know,” I say, tears blurring everything. “I know. Just hold on.”

“I am scared,” he says.

“I am right here,” I repeat. “I am not going anywhere.”

His breathing falters.

The healer says something. I do not hear it.

All I can hear is my son.

“Was I good enough,” he asks.

The question hits harder than any blade.

“Yes,” I say immediately. “Yes. You were perfect.”

His lips tremble.

“For Dad too,” he asks quietly.

My heart shatters completely this time.

I lie. “Yes,” I whisper. “For him too.”

Rowen exhales. Slowly. Peacefully.

His hand loosens in mine.

The room goes very quiet.

The machines make a long steady sound that does not stop.

The healer steps back.

I do not move.

I press my face into my son’s hair and rock him gently.

“No,” I whisper. “No no no. You are still here. You are still here.”

Someone touches my shoulder. I shrug them off.

“He is just sleeping,” I say. “He gets tired. You know that.”

No one argues with me.

I sit there for a long time.

Eventually, footsteps approach again.

I do not look up.

“Selene,” a voice says.

I recognize it.

I lift my head slowly.

Dorian stands in the doorway.

His suit is immaculate. His hair perfectly styled. He looks irritated. Not panicked. Not broken.

Late.

“You came,” I say. My voice sounds wrong. Hollow.

He exhales sharply. “I came as soon as I could.”

I look down at Rowen. Then back at Dorian.

“You missed it,” I say calmly.

He frowns. “Missed what?”

I laugh.

“Our son,” I say. “You missed our son.”

His eyes shift to the bed. To the stillness. To the quiet.

Something flickers across his face. Annoyance. Disbelief. Not grief.

“Selene,” he says. “What are you talking about.”

I stand up slowly, still holding Rowen.

“He waited for you,” I say. “He asked for you.”

Dorian rubs his temple. “This is not the time for dramatics.”

I stare at him.

“Say that again,” I say softly.

He sighs. “We will arrange the healers again tomorrow. Right now, I have people waiting.”

I feel something dangerous rise in my chest.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat. “Hmm. Okay.”

He steps close

r. Looks at Rowen more carefully now.

“Why is he not responding,” he asks.

I meet his eyes.

“Because he is dead,” I say.

Dorian freezes.

“What,” he says.

I take a step toward him.

“Say his name,” I tell him.

He hesitates. “Rowen.”

“Say it again,” I say.

“Rowen,” he repeats, irritated now.

I lift my chin.

“He died asking if he was good enough for you,” I say. “So tell me, Alpha Nightfall.”

My voice trembles for the first time.

“Was he.”