Chapter 26
title: "What Mothers Do" wordCount: 3390
My mother moves like something that used to be human, silver claws extending from nail beds that weep black fluid, and her eyes—her eyes are her own again, which makes it so much worse because she knows exactly what she is about to do.
I cannot move.
My feet have grown roots through the concrete floor. My hands hang useless at my sides. The watch on my wrist ticks even though it stopped working years ago, or maybe that is just my pulse hammering against the leather band.
"Mom." The word comes out broken. A child's plea.
She does not slow down.
Garrett leans against the observation window, arms crossed, that corporate smile stretching wider across his face. "Fascinating, is it not? The conditioning took remarkably well. Three weeks of silver injections, sensory deprivation, and carefully curated memories. She believes you are the reason Marcus died. The reason her sons died. The reason she has spent five years in this room."
My mother's lips pull back from her teeth. Not a snarl. A grimace. Like she is fighting against her own body and losing.
"I am sorry," she whispers, and lunges.
Declan hits her from the side.
They go down in a tangle of limbs and I am still frozen, still useless, watching as my mother's claws rake across his chest. The silver cuts through his shirt like tissue paper. Through skin. Through muscle. Black veins spread from the wounds immediately, necrosis racing toward his heart.
He does not scream. Just makes this small, surprised sound. Like he forgot pain could feel like this.
My mother steps over him without looking down.
"No." I find my voice. "No, Mom, please—"
"Do not call me that." Her voice cracks. "Do not make this harder than it already is."
She is crying. Silver tears track down her cheeks, leaving burns in their wake. Her hands shake as she raises them, claws dripping with Declan's blood and that black fluid that smells like rot and wolfsbane.
I could run. The door is fifteen feet behind me. Garrett has not moved to block it. He wants to watch this. Wants to see if I will fight back or if I will let her kill me.
Yeah, no. Not my circus.
Except it is. It has always been my circus. My family. My curse.
My mother closes the distance between us in three strides. Fast. Too fast for human, too controlled for wolf. Something in between. Something Garrett made her into.
"I can end this." Her voice is steady now. Clinical. Like she is explaining a math problem. "The curse requires a Carrigan to hold the alpha power. If I kill you before it fully awakens, before it bonds to you completely, it will have nowhere to go. It will dissipate. Garrett will be free, and he will let me die."
"That is not—" I start, but she is already moving.
Her claws sink into my shoulder.
The pain is white-hot, immediate, absolute. Silver burns different than regular wounds. It does not just hurt the flesh. It hurts the wolf underneath. Hurts the parts of me that are not quite human anymore.
I grab her wrists.
Not to push her away. To hold her closer.
"What are you doing?" She tries to pull back but I am stronger than I look. Stronger than I was yesterday. The alpha power is waking up whether I want it to or not, and right now I need it.
I need it to save her.
The silver in her system glows under her skin like a road map of pain. In her bloodstream. Her organs. Her bone marrow. Garrett did not just inject her with it. He made her into a living weapon, a walking dose of the one thing that can kill us.
I pull.
Not with my hands. With something deeper. The same thing that let me rip Declan's wolf out of him. The same thing that made Garrett's pack bow to me in that clearing. I pull the silver out of her and into me.
It feels like swallowing broken glass. Like breathing in fire. Like every nerve ending in my body is being flayed open and dipped in acid.
My mother's eyes widen. "Sloane, no—"
But I am already drowning in it. The silver floods my system, racing through my veins, turning my blood to poison. My knees hit the concrete. My mother collapses on top of me, her claws sliding free from my shoulder, her body suddenly boneless and heavy.
Garrett's smile disappears.
"What did you do?" He pushes off the wall, takes three steps toward us, then stops. "What did you just do?"
I cannot answer. My jaw is locked, teeth grinding together so hard I taste blood. The silver is in my lungs now. My heart. Every beat pushes it further, spreads it wider, and I can feel my body trying to reject it, trying to heal around it, but there is too much.
Way too much.
My mother rolls off me, gasping. Her skin is already losing that gray tint. The black veins under her eyes are fading. She looks at me and I see the moment she understands what I did.
"No." She reaches for me but her hands are shaking too badly to find purchase. "No, baby, no—"
"That was remarkably stupid." Garrett crouches down beside us, just out of reach. "You have made it worse, Sloane Carrigan. Now you will die slowly, and your mother will wake to find she killed her own daughter. The curse will still find another vessel. You have accomplished nothing except ensuring your own suffering."
He stands. Brushes invisible dust from his slacks.
"I will give you both some privacy. For what it is worth, Moira, I am sorry it came to this. You were always my favorite."
The door clicks shut behind him. The lock engages with a sound like a coffin closing.
My mother is sobbing now, her hands hovering over me like she wants to touch me but is afraid she will make it worse. "Why would you do that? Why would you—"
"Because." The word comes out garbled. My tongue is swelling. "You are my mom."
Not a good reason. Not a smart reason. But the only one that matters.
The silver is in my brain now. I can feel it pressing against the inside of my skull, turning my thoughts sluggish and strange. The room tilts. The fluorescent lights above me split into doubles, then triples, then a whole constellation of burning suns.
Declan.
I need to get to Declan.
I roll onto my stomach. My arms do not want to work but I make them. Drag myself forward an inch. Another. The concrete scrapes my palms raw but I barely feel it under the silver fire eating me from the inside out.
He is so far away. Ten feet might as well be ten miles.
My mother is saying something but I cannot hear her over the ringing in my ears. She grabs my ankle, trying to pull me back, but I kick free. Keep crawling.
Declan's chest is not moving.
No. No, that is not right. He cannot be dead. He is Declan Thorne. He is the one who always survives. The one who always has a plan.
Five feet. Four.
My vision is going dark around the edges. Not the normal dark of unconsciousness. Something else. Something that feels like it is watching me from behind my own eyes.
Three feet.
Declan's blood is pooling under him, too much blood, and the black veins from the silver have spread across his neck, his jaw, creeping toward his face like cracks in porcelain.
Two feet.
I can almost touch him. My fingers stretch out, reaching for his hand, and I am so close, so fucking close—
Everything goes black.
But I do not lose consciousness.
I am still here. Still aware. Just not in control anymore.
My body sits up smoothly, no pain, no trembling. The silver is still there—I can feel it burning—but it is not stopping me. Not slowing me down.
Someone else is driving.
My hand reaches out and touches Declan's chest. Right over his heart. I feel it stutter, skip, struggle to keep beating against the silver poisoning.
"Not yet." The words come out of my mouth but they are not mine. The voice is wrong. Layered. My mother's voice underneath my own. "Not yet, little alpha. We have work to do."
My mother screams something behind me but the presence wearing my body does not turn around. It presses harder against Declan's chest and I feel the alpha power surge, not wild and uncontrolled like before, but focused. Precise.
The silver in his system responds to the silver in mine. Recognizes it. Calls to it.
No. I try to pull back, try to stop whatever is happening, but I am a passenger in my own skin. No, you cannot take it from him. I will not survive more.
"You will not survive anyway." My mouth moves but I am not the one speaking. "This way, at least you will not die alone."
The silver flows out of Declan and into me.
It should kill me instantly. Should stop my heart, collapse my lungs, shut down every system. But the presence holding me together does not let me die. Does not let me escape into unconsciousness.
It makes me feel every second of it.
Declan gasps. His eyes fly open. The black veins on his face recede, slowly, reluctantly, but they recede.
My body stands up. Turns to face my mother.
She has backed herself into the corner, hands pressed against the wall, staring at me like I am a stranger. "Sloane?"
"Not exactly." My mouth curves into a smile that I did not make. "Hello, Moira. It has been a long time."
My mother's face goes white. "Marcus?"
"Close." My hand lifts, examines itself like it is seeing it for the first time. "But not quite. You could say I am what he left behind. The part of him that knew this day would come."
I am screaming inside my own head but no sound comes out. The presence is too strong, too old, too certain of itself.
My mother takes a step forward. "Let her go. Whatever you are, let my daughter go."
"I cannot do that." My head tilts, considering her. "She is dying, Moira. The silver is too much. Her body is shutting down. But I can keep her alive. I can keep her conscious. Long enough to finish what Marcus started."
"What are you talking about?" My mother's voice breaks. "What did Marcus start?"
My mouth opens to answer but before the words come out, my body convulses. The presence loses its grip for just a second and I feel myself falling, the silver finally winning, finally dragging me down into the dark where I cannot hurt anymore.
But just before I go under, I feel it. The alpha power. Not the wild, uncontrolled thing that took over when I attacked Declan. Something older. Something that has been sleeping in my bloodline for generations, waiting for the right moment to wake up.
And it is hungry.
I surface to the sound of my mother's voice, low and urgent, speaking words I do not understand. Not English. Not any language I recognize. But my body responds anyway, sitting up, eyes opening.
Declan is on his feet now, leaning heavily against the wall, one hand pressed to his chest where the wounds are already closing. Slower than they should. The silver did damage that will take time to heal.
He is staring at me like he is seeing me for the first time.
"That is not Sloane," he says.
"No." My mother does not look away from me. "It is not."
My body stands. The silver is still there, still burning, but it is background noise now. Manageable. The presence has woven itself around it, using the alpha power to keep me functional even though I should be dead.
"We do not have much time." My voice is steadier than it should be. "Garrett will return soon. He will want to confirm Sloane is dead."
"Then we need to leave." Declan pushes off the wall, takes a step toward the door, and nearly falls. His legs are not ready to hold him yet.
My body moves without my permission, catching him before he hits the ground. His weight settles against me and I feel his heart beating, too fast, still recovering from how close he came to dying.
"You cannot leave." My mouth says the words gently. Almost kindly. "Not yet. There is something you need to see first."
"What are you?" Declan's voice is rough. He is looking at me—at my face—but I can tell he is searching for some sign of me underneath. Some proof that I am still here.
I am. I want to tell him. I am still here. But the presence does not let me speak.
"I am what Marcus Carrigan created when he cast the bloodline curse." My hand lifts, touches Declan's face, and I feel his skin warm under my palm. "I am the failsafe. The thing he left behind to make sure his family would survive, no matter what."
My mother makes a sound like she has been punched. "He put a piece of himself in her. In our daughter."
"Not a piece." My head turns to look at her. "A purpose. A directive. Keep the Carrigan line alive. Keep the alpha power contained. And when the time comes, make sure Garrett Voss pays for what he did."
The presence releases Declan and he stumbles back, putting distance between us. Smart. I would do the same if I could.
My body walks to the observation window. Looks out at the empty hallway beyond.
"Garrett thinks he has won. He thinks Sloane is dying and Moira is broken and there is no one left to stop him." My reflection in the glass smiles. "He is wrong."
"How?" My mother's voice is small. Broken. "How do we stop him?"
My body turns back to face them both. "We give him exactly what he wants."
Before either of them can respond, my hand reaches up and touches my own chest. Right over my heart. Where the silver is concentrated. Where it burns the hottest.
"We let Sloane Carrigan die."
My mother lunges forward but my body is faster. It moves to the door, touches the lock, and I feel the alpha power surge again. The metal groans. Bends. Breaks.
The door swings open.
"Come." My body steps into the hallway. "We have work to do."
I try to fight it. Try to force my way back into control. But the presence is too strong and I am too weak and the silver is still eating me alive from the inside out.
My mother and Declan follow me into the hallway. They do not have a choice. Whatever is wearing my body now, it is the only thing keeping me alive.
And it has plans.
We make it three hallways before Garrett's wolves find us.
There are six of them. All shifted. All snarling. They block the corridor ahead, a wall of fur and teeth and barely contained violence.
My body does not slow down.
"Stand aside." The command in my voice is absolute. Alpha. The kind that makes wolves bow whether they want to or not.
Five of them drop immediately. Bellies to the floor. Throats exposed.
The sixth hesitates. He is older. Stronger. More resistant to the pull of alpha command.
My body stops three feet in front of him. Tilts its head.
"I said stand aside."
The wolf's lips pull back from his teeth. He is going to attack. I can see it in the way his muscles bunch, the way his weight shifts forward.
My hand shoots out and grabs him by the throat.
I am not strong enough to do this. Even with the alpha power, even with whatever Marcus left behind, I should not be able to lift a full-grown wolf off the ground one-handed.
But my body does it anyway.
The wolf thrashes. Claws rake across my arm, opening deep gashes that bleed silver-tainted blood. My body does not flinch. Does not drop him.
"You have a choice." My voice is calm. Conversational. "You can serve Garrett Voss, who is fighting with half his power and losing ground every day. Or you can serve the Carrigan line, which has held the alpha power for three generations and will hold it for three more."
The wolf goes still.
"Choose quickly. I do not have time for this."
The wolf shifts. It happens fast, bones cracking and reforming, fur receding. In seconds, there is a naked man dangling from my grip instead of a wolf.
"I choose you," he gasps.
My body drops him. He hits the ground hard, coughing, one hand pressed to his throat where my fingers left bruises.
"Good." My body steps over him. "Tell Garrett that Sloane Carrigan is dead. Tell him Moira killed her daughter and the curse is broken. Tell him he is free."
The man stares up at me. "But that is not—"
"Tell him." The command cracks through the air like a whip. "Now."
He runs.
The other five wolves stay on the ground, heads down, waiting for permission to move.
My body ignores them. Keeps walking.
My mother catches up, grabs my arm. "What are you doing? If Garrett thinks you are dead—"
"Then he will make a mistake." My body does not stop. Does not look at her. "And when he does, we will be ready."
Declan is on my other side now, still moving like every step hurts. "That is not a plan. That is suicide."
"No." My body finally stops. Turns to face them both. "Suicide is what Sloane was doing before I took over. Crawling toward you. Trying to save you. Letting herself die for people who have done nothing but hurt her."
The words hit like a slap. Declan flinches. My mother's eyes fill with tears.
"I am not Sloane." My mouth curves into something that is not quite a smile. "I am what Marcus made to keep her alive. And I will do whatever it takes to finish what he started. Even if she hates me for it."
I do hate you, I scream inside my own head. Let me go. Let me die. Let me—
My body convulses. The presence loses its grip again and I feel myself falling forward. Declan catches me. His arms wrap around me and I can smell his blood, his sweat, the lingering scent of silver poisoning.
"Sloane?" His voice is close to my ear. Desperate. "Sloane, are you there?"
I try to answer but my mouth will not work. The presence is fighting to regain control and I am fighting to stay conscious and the silver is still burning and everything hurts.
My fingers find his shirt. Grip tight.
"I am here," I manage to whisper. "I am still—"
The presence slams back into control and my body goes rigid in Declan's arms. My head lifts. My eyes open.
"Not for long." My voice is cold. Final. "She is dying, Declan Thorne. The silver is too much. But I can keep her alive long enough to end this. Long enough to make Garrett pay."
"At what cost?" Declan's arms tighten around me. "What happens to her when this is over?"
My body pulls free from his grip. Steps back.
"That is not your concern anymore."
My vision is going dark again. Not the presence taking over. Something else. The silver finally winning. Finally dragging me down into the place where I cannot fight anymore.
I try to reach for Declan one more time. Try to tell him I am sorry. Try to tell him I did not want this.
But my hand only makes it halfway before my vision goes completely black and something else opens its eyes—the same presence that took control when I attacked Declan, but this time it speaks in my mother's voice: "Not yet, little alpha. We have work to do."