From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 136

Julia's POV

My hands remained steady as I prepared the medication, though my heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. The vial of metabolic stabilizer trembled slightly as I measured precisely 3.7cc—too much would send his system into shock, too little would be ineffective.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I combined it with the antiviral, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across Alex's pale face. If this went wrong, not only would a child suffer, but everything I'd worked for would collapse in an instant. Nathan would have all the ammunition he needed to destroy me.

"His pulse is 180," Natalie whispered, her fingers wrapped tightly around her son's limp hand.

I nodded, inserting the IV needle with practiced precision. The blue-tinged liquid flowed into Alex's arm, and I held my breath, watching for any sign of an adverse reaction. Then I quickly arranged ice packs around his small body—under his armpits, behind his neck, at his groin where major blood vessels would carry the cooling effect throughout his system.

"Now we wait," I said softly, trying to infuse confidence into my voice that I didn't entirely feel.

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly as we monitored Alex. Every fifteen minutes, I checked his vitals, noting each small change in his chart. The room felt suffocatingly small, with Owen pacing back and forth while Natalie whispered prayers to the Moon Goddess. Dr. Moore stood silently in the corner, his skeptical gaze never leaving my face.

During the second hour, Alex's temperature spiked to 106.2, and his small body convulsed in a seizure more violent than before. Natalie let out a strangled sob.

"We need to stop this treatment," Dr. Moore said sharply. "It's making him worse."

"No," I countered, adjusting the IV flow rate. "His body is fighting. The stabilizer takes time to regulate his metabolism." But doubt clawed at my insides as I watched Alex's chest heave with each labored breath.

The third hour was the worst. Alex's skin took on a grayish tinge, and twice I had to clear his airway. My scrubs were soaked with sweat, and I could feel Kaia whimpering inside me, sharing my anguish. Owen stopped pacing and slumped against the wall, his face a mask of despair. Even Dr. Moore's criticism had given way to grim silence.

"Please," I whispered to Alex, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "Please fight."

Just as dawn's first light filtered through the small window, casting a golden glow across the room, Alex's breathing changed. It became slower, more regular. I scrambled for the thermometer—104.5. Still high, but dropping. Thirty minutes later, it read 103.2. The seizures stopped completely.

By morning, sunlight flooded the small examination room, and Alex's eyes fluttered open. They were clear, without the glassy fever-haze. His cracked lips moved.

"Water," he croaked, his voice barely audible.

The relief that flooded through me was so intense my knees almost buckled. I gripped the edge of the bed to stay upright, my vision blurring with unshed tears. Owen crossed the room in two strides and gripped my shoulder, his eyes wet with emotion.

"Thank you," he said simply, his voice breaking on the words. "Thank you for saving my son when no one else could."

Word of Alex's recovery spread rapidly through the pack. By afternoon, Owen had publicly endorsed the isolation facility, bringing with him several other Council members. Volunteers arrived in waves - mothers who'd seen their children recover, siblings of patients, even some of Nathan's supporters who'd begun to question his dismissal of the epidemic.

"We need a formal training program," I told the assembled group. "Everyone needs to understand basic sanitation, protective measures, and how to monitor patients via mindlink."

John stepped forward. "I've set up a rotation schedule. Each volunteer gets paired with someone who has medical training."

I nodded gratefully. "We'll also establish mindlink check-ins every hour. If anyone feels symptoms developing, you report immediately and isolate. No exceptions."

The energy in the room felt electric - for the first time since the outbreak began, we had hope and a system. As people dispersed to their assigned tasks, I finally allowed myself a moment to breathe.

The success was short-lived.

---

"What the hell is going on here?" Nathan's voice cut through the busy ward like a knife.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway, flanked by two warriors. His face was thunderous, his Alpha power rolling off him in waves that made several volunteers lower their eyes instinctively.

"We're treating the sick," I answered calmly, though Kaia bristled inside me. "The main facility was overcrowded."

Nathan strode forward, his gaze sweeping over the organized chaos with undisguised disgust. "You established this facility without authorization. Without *my* authorization."

"There wasn't time for bureaucracy," I replied. "People were dying."

"You've overstepped, Julia." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "This is a direct challenge to pack leadership."

I held my ground, though every instinct screamed to back away from the angry Alpha. "This is medical necessity, not politics."

Nathan's eyes flashed gold. "This facility is to be closed immediately. Anyone found participating in this... unauthorized operation will be considered in defiance of Alpha orders."

Murmurs rippled through the room. Defying the Alpha was one of the most serious offenses in pack law.

"You can't be serious," Owen stepped forward. "My son would be dead if not for this place."

Nathan's gaze hardened. "Then you should have brought him to the official medical center."

"Where he would have waited hours for attention because you've refused to allocate resources properly?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice.

For a moment, I thought Nathan might physically attack me. The air between us crackled with tension.

"This facility closes by sunset," he said finally. "That's an order."

As he turned to leave, I felt a familiar warm presence touch my mind.

*Julia? I've reached the border. How are things on your end?*

Matthew's voice in my head was like a lifeline. He had reached the border already for our mindlink to work. I closed my eyes briefly, allowing the connection to strengthen.

*Nathan's ordering us to shut down the isolation ward. We've been treating dozens of patients, Matthew. We're saving lives.*

His response was immediate and fierce. *Don't shut it down. I'll be there in an hour. Hold your ground until I get there.*

Nathan paused at the door, his nostrils flaring as if he could somehow sense the mindlink conversation. His eyes met mine with cold calculation.

"Remember where your loyalty should lie, Julia," he said, just loud enough for me to hear. "Or there will be consequences for everyone involved."

After he left, the volunteers looked to me with uncertainty in their eyes. I squared my shoulders, drawing strength from Matthew's promised support.

"We continue," I said firmly. "These patients need us. We're not abandoning them."

One by one, they nodded, returning to their tasks with renewed determination.