From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 129

Eric's POV

The bass pounded through the speakers as I navigated through the crowded living room of Nathan's mansion. Bodies swayed to the music, laughter erupting from every corner as pack members celebrated our Alpha's latest demonstration of strength and prosperity. My smile remained fixed in place, the perfect Beta-in-training, while my eyes constantly scanned the room.

Dad coughed again—the third time in fifteen minutes. I watched him from across the room, noting how he tried to disguise it by turning away, lifting his glass to his mouth. But I caught the way his shoulders tensed, how he steadied himself against the wall.

"Everything good, Eric?" Nathan's hand landed on my shoulder, his grip just a little too tight.

"Never better," I replied, raising my glass. "Great turnout."

Nathan surveyed the room with obvious satisfaction. "This is what leadership looks like. Not hiding from some overblown flu scare."

I nodded, but my wolf Maddox growled uneasily inside me. All around us, I could detect subtle signs my human friends would miss: the slight flush on Mrs. Peterson's cheeks, Mr. Hanson's labored breathing, little Tommy's mother pressing a cool cloth to his forehead in the corner.

"You're distracted," Nathan commented, eyes narrowing.

"Just making sure security's tight." I gestured toward the perimeter where our warriors stood alert. "That's my job."

Nathan clapped my shoulder. "That's why you'll make a perfect Beta. Always vigilant."

As he moved on to other guests, my gaze returned to my father. As former Beta, he should've been circulating, engaging with everyone. Instead, he remained in one spot, his normally commanding presence diminished.

Three hours later, I helped Dad into our house, his weight heavy against my side. Mom rushed forward, her usually calm facade cracking when she saw his flushed face.

"I knew we shouldn't have gone," she muttered, helping me guide him to the bedroom.

"I'm fine," Dad insisted, but the words dissolved into a harsh cough that shook his entire frame.

We managed to get him into bed, where Dr. Campbell was waiting. The pack doctor's expression grew increasingly grave as he examined my father. I stood back, arms crossed, watching as he took Dad's temperature, listened to his lungs, checked his reflexes.

"One hundred and four degrees," Dr. Campbell announced, frowning at the thermometer. "And his breathing is restricted. I'm afraid it's the werewolf influenza variant we've been hearing about."

"The one Nathan says is just 'media hype'?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice.

Dad tried to sit up. "Nathan is doing what's best for the pack. Showing strength—"

"By ignoring a legitimate threat?" I interrupted, something I'd never have done before tonight. "People are dying in Mountain Creek, Dad. Their Alpha waited too long."

"Our metabolism makes standard medications less effective," Dr. Campbell explained, unpacking several vials. "I can give him something for the fever, but honestly, we're still learning how to treat this variant in werewolves."

A terrible thought struck me. "Julia would know," I said suddenly. "She's been working on protocols for werewolf-specific treatments at Spring Valley."

Dad's eyes flashed with warning despite his weakness. "No. Absolutely not."

"She's a nurse—"

"And contacting her would be seen as a betrayal by Nathan," Dad rasped. "He's made his position clear on this virus. Going behind his back to Julia of all people..." He broke into another coughing fit.

"I don't care about pack politics right now," I argued, watching him struggle for breath. "You're sick."

"I care," he managed between coughs. "And I won't have you risking your position or putting Julia in danger by placing her between two packs. This is my final word on the matter."

Dr. Campbell administered the medication, gave Mom instructions for care, and left with a worried glance at me. I sat by Dad's bedside as he drifted into uneasy sleep, his breathing ragged and shallow.

Hours passed. I dozed in the chair, waking whenever Dad's coughing intensified. Near dawn, Mom's hand on my shoulder startled me awake.

"Come with me," she whispered, motioning toward the kitchen.

Once there, she filled the electric kettle, turned on the radio, and opened the faucet—creating white noise. Then, she pulled a small device from her pocket and activated it. A soft blue light blinked on.

"Mindlink blocker," she explained at my questioning look. "Your father doesn't know I have it."

My eyebrows shot up. Mindlink blockers were rare and technically against pack protocol. They created small safe zones where Alpha and pack bonds couldn't monitor conversations.

"Julia needs to be contacted," Mom said firmly, her hands gripping the counter. "Your father's pride will kill him."

"He explicitly forbade—"

"I know what he said," she interrupted, her voice shaking slightly. "But this isn't just about him. Three other pack members were showing symptoms at that ridiculous party. Nathan is suppressing reports, threatening anyone who suggests implementing protocols."

I ran my hands through my hair. "If Nathan finds out—"

"Then he finds out." Mom's eyes flashed amber. "I've stood by your father's decisions for thirty years, Eric. But I won't watch him die for Nathan's ego."

The kitchen fell silent except for the kettle's bubbling and the radio's murmur. In that moment, I saw my mother clearly for perhaps the first time—not just as Dad's supportive mate or my nurturing parent, but as a woman with her own fierce strength and judgment.

"I'll contact her," I decided, feeling a weight lift from my chest even as another settled on my shoulders. "But not from the house. Not with Dad potentially overhearing."

Mom nodded, relief washing over her face.

Twenty minutes later, I sat in my truck in the garage, my secure phone in hand.

I dialed, heart pounding as it rang.

"Eric?" Julia's voice was immediately alert, concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"No," I answered, keeping my voice low. "It's Dad. He's sick—really sick. One hundred and four degrees fever, struggling to breathe. The pack doctor says it's the werewolf flu variant."

A sharp intake of breath. "Nathan's still refusing prevention measures?"

"Worse. He's actively increasing gatherings to 'show strength.'" I couldn't keep the disgust from my voice. "Dad doesn't want me calling you. He's afraid Nathan will see it as betrayal, and he doesn't want you caught between packs."

"I'm coming," she said immediately, no hesitation. "I've been working on treatment protocols specifically designed for werewolf metabolism."

"Nathan will never let you through the borders."

"Then we don't tell him." The determination in her voice reminded me of Mom's. "I still know the territory blind spots."

I made a quick decision. "I can speak to the warriors on the eastern border. Get you through without triggering official channels. But Julia—it's dangerous."

"He's my father too, Eric." Her voice softened. "Text me the details. I'll be ready."