Chapter 50 #2
The waiting room was too bright and too quiet and too full of other people's grief.
I sat in a hard plastic chair, elbows on my knees, head in my hands.
Garrett paced the length of the room like a caged animal.
Micah sat rigid and still, staring at nothing, his mind clearly working through scenarios and possibilities and plans.
Oliver was on the phone with Sheriff Morrison, his voice low and tightly controlled.
Trinity was in custody. That was something, at least. She'd been found wandering the woods near Daphne's cabin, disoriented and ranting, blood under her fingernails. Daphne's blood. The thought made me want to vomit.
She'd attacked our omega. Poisoned her, then attacked her when she was too weak to properly defend herself. And Daphne—stubborn, fierce, incredible Daphne—had still managed to fight back. Had scratched and clawed and bitten until Trinity fled.
If we'd gotten there any later... I couldn't think about that. Couldn't let myself go down that road.
"Family of Daphne Evens?" I was on my feet before the doctor finished speaking, the others right beside me.
"That's us," Oliver asked, worry clear in his voice and stance as he stood next to the doctor, "How is she?"
The doctor—a tired-looking beta woman with kind eyes—consulted her clipboard.
"She's stable. The substance she ingested was a synthetic compound we don't see often—similar to what's sometimes called 'omega's bane' on the black market.
It's designed to mimic heat sickness symptoms, but in higher doses, it can cause cardiac arrhythmia, respiratory depression, and organ damage. "
My stomach dropped. "Is she... will she be okay?"
"She's lucky you found her when you did.
Another hour or two, and we might be having a very different conversation.
" The doctor's expression softened. "As it is, we've administered the appropriate treatment, and she's responding well.
She's awake and asking for you." The relief that flooded through me was so intense my knees nearly buckled.
Garrett's hand landed on my shoulder, steadying me, and I realized he was shaking too.
"Can we see her?" Micah asked, has hands in fists next to his sides. He was trying to keep it together.
"Two at a time, for now. She needs rest, but she was very insistent." A small smile crossed the doctor's face. "She said something about 'her alphas' needing to see she was okay or they'd tear the hospital apart."
Despite everything, I laughed. That was so perfectly Daphne.
"Go," Oliver said to me and Garrett. "We'll wait." I didn't need to be told twice. The room was small and sterile, full of beeping machines and the antiseptic smell of hospitals. Daphne was there, propped up against pillows, pale and bruised but alive. So beautifully, miraculously alive.
"Hey," she said, her voice hoarse. "Took you long enough." I crossed the room in three strides and gathered her into my arms as gently as I could manage, mindful of the IV and the monitors and her injured body.
"Don't ever do that to me again," I said against her hair. "I thought... Daphne, I thought..."
"I know." Her hand came up to stroke my back, comforting me even now. "I'm sorry I scared you."
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Garrett appeared on her other side, taking her hand, pressing a kiss to her bruised knuckles. "Trinity is in custody. She's not going to hurt you again."
"Good." Daphne's voice was small but fierce. "I hope they throw the book at her."
"They will," I promised. "Oliver's already talking to Sheriff Morrison. She's facing assault, poisoning, breaking and entering, probably attempted murder given what the doctor said about the dosage. She's done, Daphne. It's over."
Daphne was quiet for a moment. Then: "When I thought I was going to die..."
"Don't," Garrett said roughly. "Don't talk like that."
"I need to say this." She looked between us, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"When I thought I was going to die, all I could think about was how I wasted so much time being scared.
How I kept holding back, kept waiting until I was 'ready,' and what if ready never came? What if I never got the chance to..."
"The chance to what?" I asked softly.
"To be yours. Completely." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I want to be mated. I want to be marked. I don't want to wait anymore. Life is too short and too uncertain, and I love you—all of you—and I don't want to spend another day not being completely, officially, permanently yours."
My heart stopped. Actually stopped, for a full beat, before restarting with a thunderous pound.
"Daphne," Garrett breathed. "Are you sure? You've been through a trauma. You might not be thinking clearly—"
"I'm thinking more clearly than I ever have." She gripped his hand tighter. "Almost dying has a way of putting things in perspective. I know what I want. I want you. I want all of you. Forever."
I looked at Garrett. He looked at me. And then we were both leaning in, pressing kisses to her face—her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth.
"We need to tell Oliver and Micah," I said. "They need to hear this too."
"Then go get them." Daphne smiled, tired but radiant. "I'm not going anywhere." I practically ran to the waiting room.
"She wants to see you," I told Oliver and Micah, and something in my face must have given away that it was more than that, because they were both on their feet immediately.
"What is it?" Oliver asked, frown on his face as he tried to see why we were acting this way. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine. She's better than fine." I was grinning now, I realized, grinning so hard my face hurt. "She has something she wants to tell you. Something important." They exchanged confused glances but followed me back to the room.
Daphne was still propped up in bed, Garrett holding her hand, looking more peaceful than I'd seen her since we'd found her on the floor of her cabin. When Oliver and Micah entered, her smile widened.
"I was just telling Levi and Garrett," she said. "And I want to tell you too." She took a breath. "I want to be mated. I want to be marked. I want to be yours—all of yours—officially and permanently. I don't want to wait anymore."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then Oliver crossed to her bedside, took her face in his hands, and kissed her—soft and sweet and full of promise.
"When you're better," he said against her lips. "When you're healed and strong and ready. We'll claim you properly. All of us. Together."
"Together," she agreed, and the word felt like a vow.
Micah stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You scared us," he said quietly. "Don't do it again."
"I'll try not to." She caught his hand, squeezing. "I love you. I love all of you. I should have said yes weeks ago."
"You said yes now," I said, climbing carefully onto the edge of her bed, needing to be close to her.
"That's what matters." We stayed like that for a long time—the five of us crowded into that tiny hospital room, touching and holding and reassuring ourselves that she was real, she was alive, she was ours.
Tomorrow, we would deal with the aftermath. The police reports, the legal proceedings, the trauma that would take time to heal.
But tonight, we had each other…soon—very soon—we would have forever.