When My Mate Let My Parents Die to Save Her

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt as consciousness crawled back into my broken body. Not the sharp, clean pain of a fresh wound, but something deeper. Duller. Like my bones had been ground to powder and reassembled wrong.

I tried to open my eyes, but even my eyelids felt heavy as stone. The air smelled different here—crisp pine and clean snow, nothing like the musty dampness of Silver Moon territory. Where was I?

Luna stirred weakly in my mind, barely a whisper of her former strength. We're alive, she managed, though she sounded as confused as I felt.

Memories trickled back in fragments. The mountain. The avalanche. The crushing weight of ice and rock. The mate bond snapping like a broken chain.

Ethan. Was he—?

I reached for the bond instinctively, the way you might probe a sore tooth. Nothing. Just empty space where that golden thread used to live. The absence felt like a missing limb.

"You're awake." A gentle voice, female. "Don't try to move yet. Your body's been through hell."

I forced my eyes open. A woman in healer's robes sat beside my bed, her dark hair streaked with premature silver. Something about her face seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it through the fog in my head.

"Who—" My voice came out as a croak.

"Maya Chen. I used to be Silver Moon's healer, before I transferred here." Her expression darkened. "Before I couldn't stomach the corruption anymore."

Maya. I remembered her now—the healer who'd patched me up after training accidents, who'd always looked at me with something like pity when Ethan wasn't around.

"Where am I?"

"Frostbane territory. Alpha Malcolm's pack house." She checked something on a clipboard. "You've been unconscious for three weeks. Malcolm found you buried under half a mountain and carried you here himself."

Malcolm. The name stirred something in my chest, a warmth I couldn't identify. "Why would he—"

"Because that's what decent Alphas do. They save lives." Maya's tone carried an edge of bitterness. "Unlike some I could mention."

I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Fire shot through my ribs, and my left leg screamed in protest.

"Easy." Maya's hands pressed gently on my shoulders, guiding me back down. "You had fourteen broken bones, severe hypothermia, and internal bleeding. You're lucky to be alive."

Lucky. The word tasted like ash. "How bad is it?"

Maya hesitated, and that pause told me everything I needed to know.

"Your bones will heal. The ribs are already knitting well, and your leg should be fine with physical therapy." She took a breath. "But there was internal damage. The crush injuries, combined with the prolonged exposure to cold..."

"Tell me."

"Your reproductive system took the worst of it. The scarring is extensive." Her voice was clinical, but her eyes were kind. "Eliana, you'll never be able to carry a pup."

The words hit me like another avalanche. Never carry a pup. Never give Ethan an heir—not that it mattered anymore. Never be a proper Luna. Never be...

"Broken," I whispered.

Luna whimpered in my head, sharing my devastation. What kind of she-wolf couldn't bear young? What kind of mate was I now?

"You are not broken." The voice was deep, warm, and came from the doorway.

I turned my head and saw him. Alpha Malcolm Harvey stood in the entrance, filling the frame with his presence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and the kind of steady gray eyes that seemed to see everything. There was something familiar about him too, like a half-remembered dream.

"I'll leave you two alone," Maya said, gathering her supplies. "Call if you need anything."

Malcolm waited until she left, then moved to the chair beside my bed. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there with his hands folded, radiating a calm strength that was nothing like Ethan's volatile energy.

"You don't know me," he said finally. "But I know you."

"From where?"

"You were seven. Lost in the woods between territories, crying for your parents." His voice was soft, distant. "I found you first, before the Silver Moon patrol did. You had scraped knees and tear tracks on your cheeks, but you were trying so hard to be brave."

The memory surfaced slowly. A boy with kind eyes and gentle hands, cleaning my cuts with stream water and promising everything would be okay. I'd thought he was an angel.

"That was you."

He nodded. "I've been watching over you ever since. From a distance. Making sure you were safe."

"Why?"

His eyes met mine, and something passed between us. A recognition. A rightness that made Luna lift her head for the first time since I'd woken up.

"Because even then, I knew," he said simply. "You were meant to be mine."