From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 130

Julia's POV

Dawn painted the sky in hues of lavender and gold as I stuffed the last of my medical supplies into an inconspicuous black backpack. My fingers moved methodically, checking each item against my mental list: modified antibiotics, fever reducers, anti-inflammatories, all specifically formulated for werewolf metabolism. Special disposable masks with charcoal filters. Digital thermometer. Stethoscope. IV supplies.

Matthew stood in the doorway of our bedroom, arms crossed, eyes following my movements. The worry lines etched across his forehead betrayed his carefully controlled expression.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, voice low and gravelly from sleep.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. We'd already had this conversation three times since Eric's call last night.

"If Nathan catches you..." Matthew left the sentence hanging, the unspoken threat more powerful than any words.

"He won't," I said, zipping the backpack with finality. "Eric knows all the blind spots in the territory. And Nathan's busy with pack meetings today."

Matthew crossed the room in three long strides, taking my hands in his. "We established the emergency protocol?"

I squeezed his hands. "If I don't check in via mindlink every six hours, you send Jason and the security team. If I say 'moonflower' through our link, it means I'm in immediate danger."

"And you'll be back in—"

"Forty-eight hours, maximum," I finished. "Dad's condition is serious, but not critical enough to need extended care. I'll stabilize him, set up a treatment protocol mom can follow, and get out."

Matthew's jaw tightened. He pulled me against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. I inhaled his scent—pine needles and rain—trying to memorize it, to carry it with me.

"I hate this," he murmured into my hair. "But I understand why you have to go."

I tilted my face up to his. "He's my father, Matthew. I can't let him die because of Nathan's ego and politics."

Matthew pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Your compassion is one of the reasons I love you. Just promise me you'll put your safety first. If things get dangerous—"

"I'll leave immediately," I promised. "Doctor's orders."

He almost smiled at that. Almost.

---

The abandoned gas station at the eastern edge of Star Shadow territory looked even more decrepit than I remembered. Paint peeled from boarded windows, and weeds pushed through cracks in the concrete.

I parked behind the building as instructed, out of sight from the main road. My heart hammered against my ribs as I scanned the tree line, looking for any sign of movement.

Five minutes passed. Ten. My palms grew slick with sweat.

"Come on, Eric," I whispered.

A twig snapped to my left. I whirled, adrenaline surging—

Eric emerged from the trees, his expression unreadable. He wore dark clothes, his usual confident swagger replaced by cautious movements.

"You came," he said, and something in his voice—surprise?—made my chest ache.

"I said I would." I shouldered my backpack. "How's Dad?"

"Worse. Fever's not breaking. Dr. Campbell's treatments aren't working." Eric's eyes dropped to my medical bag. "You really think you can help?"

I straightened my spine. "I've been studying werewolf-specific infectious disease protocols for months. Spring Valley has developed treatments that work. So yes, I can help."

Eric nodded once, sharply. "Follow me. Stay exactly three steps behind. If I raise my hand, freeze. If I tap my right leg twice, hide. Understood?"

"Yes."

We moved through the forest in tense silence. Eric led me through dense underbrush, avoiding the main trails. Occasionally he would pause, head tilted, listening for patrols. I matched my breathing to his, careful to place my feet exactly where he had stepped.

After twenty minutes of walking, Eric spoke without turning. "I didn't think you'd actually come back. Not after... everything."

I swallowed. "He's still my father."

"Yeah." A pause. "I underestimated you. Not just now. Before."

The admission hung between us like a physical thing. Neither of us knew what to do with it, so we kept walking.

"We'll arrive during shift change," Eric murmured as we approached the residential area. "Guards will be distracted. Move quickly, don't look around."

We emerged from the tree line behind our family home. My chest tightened at the sight—the garden Mom had lovingly tended, the back porch where I'd spent countless hours reading, the window of my old bedroom.

Eric led me through the back door, into the kitchen that smelled of disinfectant instead of Mom's usual baking.

"Eric? Is that you?" Mom's voice called from upstairs, exhaustion evident in every syllable.

"It's me," he called back. "I brought help."

I followed Eric up the stairs, bracing myself. Nothing prepared me for the sight that greeted me in my parents' bedroom.

Dad lay in the king-sized bed, his powerful frame diminished somehow. His skin had a grayish tinge beneath his natural tan, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. Each breath wheezed in his chest, labored and shallow.

Mom stood from the chair beside the bed, her eyes widening. "Julia?"

In that moment, all my medical training took over. I dropped my backpack, moved to Dad's side, and pressed my palm to his forehead.

"How long has his fever been this high?" I asked, pulling out my thermometer.

"Two days," Mom answered, still staring at me like I might disappear. "It started with just a cough, but then—"

"Forty degrees," I read from the thermometer. "His breathing is compromised. Pulse?" I reached for his wrist, counting. "One-twenty, too fast."

I opened my backpack and began setting up my equipment with practiced efficiency.

"Eric, we need to elevate his upper body. Get more pillows. Mom, I need cool water and washcloths."

They both moved to follow my instructions, seemingly stunned by my tone of authority.

I pulled out my stethoscope, listening to Dad's lungs. Crackles and wheezes filled my ears—classic signs of werewolf influenza progression.

"The virus is targeting his accelerated metabolism," I explained as I prepared an injection. "It's causing inflammation in his lungs and disrupting his body's natural healing process."

Eric returned with pillows, helping me prop Dad up to ease his breathing.

"How do you know all this?" he asked, watching me prepare an IV line.

"Because I've been treating it for months in Spring Valley," I said, finding a vein in Dad's arm with practiced ease. "The standard medications don't work because our metabolism processes them too quickly. These are specially formulated to account for that."

Mom returned with water, her eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion and worry. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing my arm.

"Julia... thank you for coming."

Something in her voice—the genuine gratitude, the relief—made my throat tighten. I nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

"We need to set up isolation protocols," I said, recovering my professional demeanor. "This virus spreads easily among werewolves. You both need to wear these." I handed them each a special mask from my bag. "And we need to improve ventilation. Eric, can you open windows in all the rooms?"

Eric nodded, taking the mask without argument.

For the next several hours, I worked steadily, setting up an impromptu treatment space. I administered medications, monitored Dad's vitals, and explained the infection control procedures to Mom and Eric.

"These human methods," Eric said, watching me adjust the IV drip, "I didn't think they'd work for us."

"They don't—not without modification," I explained. "That's why we developed specialized protocols. Medicine has to evolve, even for werewolves."

Dad stirred, his eyes fluttering open. They focused on me with confusion.

"Julia?" His voice was a rasp.

"Don't try to talk," I said, checking his oxygen levels. "You have werewolf flu. I'm treating you with modified medications."

"You... came back." He coughed, the sound wet and painful.

I adjusted his pillows. "Of course I did. You're my patient."

"Not just... patient." His hand found mine, squeezing weakly.

Something cracked in my chest—a wall I'd built long ago. I swallowed hard.

"Rest now," I said softly. "We'll talk when you're stronger."