Chapter 26 - Rafael
My vision is blurry, edges fading in and out, as the chaos around me slowly comes into focus. It’s strange, lying here in the remnants of battle, a sudden quiet settling over us. I feel Thalia’s hands on my shoulders, pulling me close, her warmth sinking into me, grounding me in the fog of pain.
“Rafael,” she murmurs, her voice so soft it barely cuts through the ringing in my ears.
I squint up at her, seeing only the faint outline of her face, the mess of her bloodied hair framing those dark, intense eyes.
“Hey,” she whispers, like she’s coaxing me back to life. “Don’t go all soft on me now. You’re going to be fine, you hear me?”
I try to chuckle, but it comes out as a wheeze, half a groan.
“Who’s soft?” I manage, blinking, trying to focus. “Just… taking a breather.”
Thalia laughs, though it sounds closer to a sob, and I can feel her fingers press gently into my neck, grounding me.
“Just a breather?” She scoffs, though there’s relief in her voice. “Thought you were tough.”
“Well,” I whisper back, words slurring. “We all have our off days.”
Her face blurs again, and I blink hard to bring her back into focus. She’s watching me with a look that’s both fierce and terrified, her hands still pressed against my chest, and I can feel the warmth of her skin on mine. Even now, with everything going dark around me, I sense the pull between us. The bond that has re-opened.
“You’re really dramatic, you know that?” Thalia whispers, a faint smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I wanted you to stay alive, not go all hero-complex on me.”
A laugh rattles through my chest, low and rough. “Can’t help it…especially not with you around, doing it first. I copy you—imitation, y’know, it’s a form of flattery.”
I cough painfully, and her face blurs again. I squeeze my eyes shut to fight the dizziness.
“Rafael?” Thalia’s voice softens, and her fingers find my cheek, a featherlight touch I can barely feel but don’t want to lose.
“Yeah?” I manage, cracking one eye open.
“Thank you.” Her voice cracks, quiet and raw, but I hear every word as if she’s speaking straight into my heart. “For coming back for me. For all of it.”
I blink up at her, trying to hold on to her face, her voice, as darkness tugs at the edges of my vision.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” I say, barely above a whisper.
Around us, voices and movements begin to blur back into focus. The fighting is over. I hear Aris’s sharp orders, Percy’s humoring grumble, the clanging of metal as Bigby moves debris to clear a path for the medics. And then footsteps, heavy and steady, like a heartbeat growing louder.
“You know,” comes Aris’s voice from somewhere above, steady but tinged with humor, “Running off like that without approval— against direct orders —was a bold choice, Rafael. Really, impressively reckless.”
I squint up, trying to make out his expression through the haze. He’s got that soft, leaderly grin on his face, but his eyes are dark with worry, scanning my injuries.
“I’m not from the military,” I manage to croak. “Can’t follow instruction to save my life.”
“Clearly,” Percy jokes from somewhere nearby, and a laugh scatters through the group at the off-color jab.
Aris’s mouth twitches as he crouches down, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll work on it,” he says, shaking his head. “We’re glad you’re alright.”
“Yeah,” Bigby rumbles from somewhere behind him, a grin spreading across his broad, friendly face. “You can’t expect us to come out and save your behind two states over every other week, Raf. A helluva lot of trouble, man.”
I grin back weakly, the effort pulling at something painful in my chest, but it’s worth it just to see them, their faces sharp with that usual mix of exasperation and loyalty.
Thalia’s still cradling me in her lap, but I can feel her glance up, almost embarrassed, as the team exchanges looks.
“Thanks for coming to bail us out,” she says, her voice tight with emotion, though she tries to keep it casual. “Thank you for…”
She can’t seem to finish. Unperturbed, Aris just gives her a wry smile. “Couldn’t have done it without Rafael stealing Zane’s truck and damn near blowing up at the north gate. Showed us right where to infiltrate.”
“Wait, that was my truck?” Zane’s voice cuts through from somewhere, mock horror laced with genuine amusement. “Rafael, that truck was new!”
I chuckle, the sound more of a wheeze at this point, and manage a shrug. “I’ll… buy you a new one.”
Zane’s face swims into my vision, his grin sharp. “Damn right, you will.”
There’s laughter from the group, and for a moment, I just sit in the familiar warmth of the pack surrounding me.
They came for me.
I listen to Bigby’s low laugh, Aris’s quiet instructions, Byron’s muttered complaints as he pushes past the debris to help Maia onto a stretcher under Veronica’s—Veronica’s here, apparently—sharp orders.
I catch a glimpse of Maia lying nearby, her face still bruised but her eyes steady, dark with both relief and something like peace. She meets my gaze, and a faint smile crosses her face. An understanding seems to pass between us. I feel a tightness in my chest ease. I smile back, and it’s real, even through the pain.
As she’s lifted onto the stretcher, Maia locks eyes with Thalia, and I watch as something unspoken, unbreakable, cement itself there. They’ve been through hell together, and in that moment, I can see everything they’ve fought to survive, every wordless vow to each other to keep holding on.
Their ordeal is over. Now, all they have to do is recover.
The last thing I see before I allow myself to fall unconscious is Thalia’s face, her eyes full of that fierce, unwavering strength, her hand still holding mine, grounding me. The voices around me begin to blur, and I can feel myself slipping, the darkness pulling me under.
But before I go, I hold on to the last thing that matters—the feel of Thalia’s fingers in mine, the way she’s looking at me like I’m the reason she kept fighting, kept believing.
As I drift away, surrounded by my family, my pack, I hold on to that thought.
***
In the dream, I am eighteen again.
When I open my eyes, everything is blurred. White walls, fluorescent lights—it takes me a second to realize where I am, to push through the fog clouding my brain, and remember what happened. I’m in the pack hospital.
My shoulder burns, a deep, pulsing ache. I try to move, and pain shoots through me, blinding and sharp. I groan, teeth clenching as the memory surges back: the woods, the rope around my throat, the bullet ripping through muscle and bone, the shock of betrayal so cold it left me numb. Stella, her face blank, her voice smooth and unbothered as she watched me fall.
Stella, who’d once been my best friend, my family in every way that counted.
A small movement catches my eye. I glance over and see Camila, my little sister, curled up in the hard hospital chair beside my bed. Dad’s not here—he must still be away on work. Her arms are folded across her knees, her head resting against her arm, her dark curls a tangled mess. Everyone always tells us we look like twins, though we both resent that notion. She’s in her favorite hoodie, the one I got her last Christmas. She looks fragile, younger than her sixteen years. But even in sleep, I can see the tension in her jaw, the worry shadowing her features.
I try to swallow, but my throat feels like sandpaper, and my chest is tight, burning with something too deep and raw to name. I blink, and I feel a wetness slip down my cheek before I can stop it—to my horror, something like a sob rips up through my chest.
The sound must wake Camila because her eyes flutter open, and she takes a second to focus. When she sees me watching her, she bolts upright, her eyes widening with relief.
“Rafael!” she says, her voice a mix of worry and relief. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth, but not before I catch the way her lips tremble. She stands, then sits again, at a loss, and finally moves closer to the edge of the bed.
I try to force a smile, but it falters, my whole face hurting with the effort. “Hey, ‘Mila,” I croak, my voice barely more than a whisper.
She just stares at me, her big brown eyes brimming with something fierce and protective, an intensity of anger and confusion and care I know I’m at fault for. Without a word, she hefts herself up onto the bed to sit next to me, scooting close until she’s pressed against my good side, her head resting on my shoulder, arm looped through mine.
She seems to want to speak but can’t find the right words.
I close my eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion crash over me, but it’s not the physical kind. It’s the kind that settles somewhere deep, hollowing you out from the inside.
I want to be strong, to push the hurt down and bury it like I always do in front of my sister, but this time it’s too much. The betrayal cuts too deep, and despite myself, tears start to slip down my cheeks, hot and silent.
Camila shifts, squeezing my arm as if her small frame could protect me from everything Stella tore open.
“I’m so sorry, Raf,” she whispers, her voice thick with her own grief. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The words break something in me, and the cry that rises in my chest is raw, uncontrollable. I try to act so adult, but at this moment, I feel like a teenager—I feel like a kid. I feel her hands on my arm, her face buried against my shoulder as she clings to me, her own tears soaking into my hospital gown.
After a while, when the tears slow, Camila pulls back just enough to look at me, her expression serious, determined in a way I’ve only ever seen a handful of times.
“Someday,” she says softly, “you’re going to have friends who are a million times better than Stella. Friends who’ll never betray you. You’re going to find people who’ll stand by you, no matter what.”
I want to believe her, want to cling to that small spark of hope. But the pain is still too raw, too fresh, and I can’t find the strength to lie to her.
“I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone like that again,” I say, my voice rough and hollow. “I can’t… I can’t go through this again.”
Camila nods, understanding in her eyes, but her hand squeezes my arm so tight it hurts.
“Maybe you can’t see it now, but you will. I know it. There’s someone out there, waiting for you, one you can trust. And when you find them…” She pauses, her voice soft but filled with certainty. “When you find them, they’re going to love you as fiercely as you deserve.”
I don’t respond, can’t bring myself to argue or to believe her fully. But as I close my eyes, her words settle in the back of my mind, a tiny flicker of warmth amid the darkness.
Even if I can’t believe it now, maybe, someday, I will.