Chapter 5 Bleeding Shadows #2
Evan positioned himself between us and the entrance like he expected more to come.
I let the magic drain away. Felt the ley line settle back into dormancy beneath my feet. Felt my soul screaming at me in ways that said I'd done damage that might not heal this time, that might finally be the tear that unraveled me completely.
Later. Deal with that later.
“What—” Cal's voice broke. “What the fuck just happened?”
I dropped to my knees beside Mason and checked his pulse again.
Weaker. Fading fast.
“We need to move him,” I said. Looked at Evan. “Pack house. Now. He won't make it otherwise.”
Evan shifted back and helped me with Mason.
“Cal you’re coming with us.” I looked at Cal. Saw terror and confusion and desperate need to understand warring in his eyes. “You want Mason to live, you come with us. No questions yet. Just trust me.”
Cal looked at Mason. At his friend bleeding out on the garage floor. At blood pooling beneath him that said time was running out.
“Okay,” he whispered. “What do I do?”
“Help me carry him.”
I started stripping off my shirt. Pressed it against the worst wounds even though I could feel Mason's life slipping away with every heartbeat. My hands were shaking. Blood on my fingers. His blood. My blood from where I'd bitten through my lip trying not to scream while magic tore me apart.
“Ronan, you're riding with us,” I said. “Evan—run ahead. Tell Nate we're coming. Tell him to prep a healing circle.”
“Can you hold him together that long?” Evan's voice was careful. He'd seen what using that much power did to me.
“I'll have to.”
Evan shifted. Fur rippling over skin like water. Then he was gone. Running ahead through streets that would lead him to pack lands, to safety, to healers who might be able to save Mason if I could keep him alive long enough.
Cal helped me lift Mason. Careful. Trying not to jostle wounds that were still bleeding. Mason groaned. Consciousness surfacing just long enough to recognize pain before slipping away again.
“Stay with us,” Cal said. Voice rough with fear. “Come on, man. Don't you fucking die on me.”
Mason didn't respond.
We got him to my truck. Cal climbed in the backseat, kept pressure on wounds that wouldn't stop bleeding.
Ronan grabbed someone's jacket off a hook, threw it on despite blood still streaming from cuts that should have been stitched hours ago.
He looked like hell. Looked like he was about to collapse.
But he followed anyway.
I drove.
Fast. Too fast. Running red lights and taking corners hard enough to make the tires scream. But careful too. Because every bump jarred Mason, made him gasp, brought him closer to giving up entirely.
“What were those things?” Cal asked from the backseat. Voice hollow with shock.
“Omega Rogues,” I said. Kept my eyes on the road even though my vision kept greying at the edges. “Corrupted wolves. Someone sent them to kill.”
“Wolves aren't—people can't just turn into—”
“You just watched it happen.” I took a corner fast. “Magic's real. Shifters are real. And the thing that sent those rogues is real too.”
“Is Mason gonna die?” Cal asked.
“Not if I can help it.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one I've got.”
Ronan shifted in his seat. “Silas sent them.”
“Yeah.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Testing us. Seeing what we can handle.”
“Or sending a message.”
“Either way, this isn't over.”
Because Omega Rogues that coordinated didn't happen by accident. Silas had sent them here specifically. To my garage. To my people.
He was escalating.
Pack lands appeared ahead. Forest pressing close on either side of the road, ancient trees that had been here longer than any of us.
I pulled up to the pack house. Evan was already there in human form, wearing borrowed pants. Nate stood beside him. Face calm but eyes carrying the focus that said he was already calculating what needed to be done.
“Inside,” Nate said. Voice carrying druid authority that made even Alphas listen. “Healing circle's ready.”
We moved Mason carefully. Cal helped despite the shock written across his face, despite the way his hands shook when he saw the pack house for the first time and realized how big this world was.
Inside smelled like pine and pack. Wolves moving through halls with purpose, clearing space, preparing for emergency healing.
Nate led us to a circular room. Bare floor marked with symbols that glowed faintly. Old magic. Druid work combined with pack power, built to knit flesh back together when normal medicine wasn't enough.
“Center,” Nate said.
We put Mason down. He looked small in that space. Fragile. Human in ways that felt like vulnerability when surrounded by wolves and magic.
Cal knelt beside him. Stayed close like proximity could keep his friend alive.
Nate looked at me. “Can you anchor?”
I nodded even though I wasn't sure. Even though my soul was torn open and I probably shouldn't be touching powerful magic right now.
But Mason needed this.
Nate began. Hands moving through patterns I recognized from old training. Druid magic woven into pack power, drawing from ley lines and forest and collective strength.
I felt the circle activate. Power flooding through the room like water finding level. Reaching for Mason's wounds, searching for damage, cataloging what needed fixing.
I anchored it. Held the power steady while Nate shaped it into healing.
My chest screamed. My soul tore wider. I gritted my teeth and held on anyway.
Mason gasped. Eyes flew open. Pain and confusion and terror mixing together.
“Easy,” Cal said, his voice breaking. “We've got you.”
The wounds began to close under our combined effort. Slowly, not completely, but enough to pull Mason back from the edge. I held on and felt Nate working beside me, felt Mason's life force strengthen from critical to merely bad.
Then Nate released the circle.
The power drained away all at once, and I sagged forward, caught myself on the edge of the workbench before I could collapse completely.
“He'll live,” Nate said quietly. “But he needs rest.”
Cal looked up, his eyes wet. “Thank you.”
I stood and swayed hard. Ronan caught my arm before I could fall.
“Cal next,” Nate said, already moving toward him. “Let me see that shoulder.”
Cal shook his head. “I'm fine. Mason's worse.”
“Mason's stable,” Nate said. “You're not. Sit.”
Cal sat.
Nate worked faster this time, drawing on reserves I could feel thinning. The gash in Cal's shoulder closed, the bruising faded, and color came back to his face.
“You need healing too,” Nate said to me once Cal was done.
“Later.” I forced myself upright. “Ronan first.”
“I'm fine,” Ronan said, still bleeding from a dozen cuts.
“Shut up and let him work,” I said.
Cal was staring at all of us now. At the magic we'd just used like it was normal. At a world that had become infinitely bigger and more dangerous in the span of twenty minutes.
“Someone needs to explain,” he said quietly. “Someone needs to tell me what the fuck just happened.”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight you stay here. Guard Mason. Try to process.”
Cal looked like he wanted to argue, but Mason was alive and breathing steady, and that seemed to settle it.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But tomorrow you explain everything.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed.
Even though I had no idea how to explain magic to someone who'd lived his whole life thinking it was fiction. Even though my soul was torn open and I didn't know if I could patch it this time.
Tomorrow felt impossibly far away.