Chapter 20
brYLEE
The hospital corridor runs long and colorless, a river of muted grays and washed-out beiges stretching beneath the relentless glare of fluorescent lights.
The floors gleam too brightly, polished to a sterile shine that reflects the ceiling panels in warped, artificial symmetry.
Machines hum behind closed doors. Somewhere, a monitor beeps in a steady rhythm—proof of life reduced to sound.
I stand at the edge of it all like a stone lodged in the current, unmoving while nurses in pastel scrubs and orderlies with rolling carts stream around me. Their rubber soles whisper against the linoleum. Their voices are hushed, efficient, detached. Life and death reduced to charts and clipboards.
The air still carries ghosts.
Luka’s fury from a few days ago—raw and volcanic. He blames himself for Sam’s betrayal. Stupid alpha.
How was he to know that the beta was a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
And Luka doesn’t even know the full extent of Sam’s betrayal.
Because he doesn’t know that I’m Teddie.
Guilt swarms me, as it always does when I think of my secret, but I brush it aside. I will tell him and Kylian the truth. There just hasn’t been a good time.
At the far end of the hall, a door stands half open. Ridge is inside, signing discharge papers. It’s been over a week since he’s been shot, and every day, he’s getting stronger. Yesterday alone, he spent over an hour arguing with his doctor, insisting that he’s fine and ready to leave.
“If I have to stay here one more goddamn day, I’ll go insane,” he had hissed, fury etched across his handsome face.
The doctor had agreed, despite my insistence that Ridge needed to remain bedridden longer. Forever, if I had my way.
I caught a glimpse of him a moment ago—standing, steady, stubborn as ever. A white bandage peeks from beneath the collar of his shirt. His movements are slower, careful.
Alive.
Walking out on his own.
It should be simple relief. It should be gratitude and nothing else.
Instead, it’s relief tangled in barbed wire.
He was shot and almost died.
Because of the Noths.
No…not just them.
Sam too.
My phone vibrates in my hand, sharp and sudden, the buzz loud in the hollow space inside my chest. I glance down automatically.
Teddie’s face lights up the screen—mid-laugh, eyes bright, hair wind tousled. My own mouth curves before I can stop it.
“Teddie.”
Relief loosens something deep in my shoulders, so sudden and intense I have to reach out and brace my palm against the cool wall beside me.
He’s okay.
He’s safe.
He’s—
“Bry.”
The single syllable erases my smile.
His voice is wrong.
Thin. Reedy. Like a song played through broken speakers. The vibrant, kinetic energy that defines him—the laugh that always sounds like it’s on the verge of becoming chaos—is gone. What replaces it is brittle. Fragile.
“Hey, sis. Before you freak out…I’m okay. Caran’s okay. Everyone’s okay. Fuck, I’m so relieved that you’re okay. Do you know how worried I was? I could barely sleep. Caran had to—”
Guttural coughs tear through the line, raw and scraping.
My chest tightens painfully.
“What’s wrong? You sound…” I swallow back the word sick. “Tired.”
Understatement of the century. But if I push too hard, he’ll shut down out of sheer, stubborn pride.
There’s a rustling sound, fabric against fabric, like he’s waving off my concern. “It’s nothing. Just a little under the weather. You know how it is.”
The lie is almost insulting.
He has never been able to lie to me. Not convincingly. Our twin bond isn’t sentimental nonsense—it’s a wire pulled tight between us, humming with truth. And right now, it’s screaming.
How bad is it?
Where’s Caran?
Does Teddie have any more medicine?
Is he bed-ridden?
Has there been blood in his vomit?
Has he seen a doctor?
“Where are you?” I ask instead, forcing my voice to stay level. The other questions can wait until I can look him in the eye and gauge the truth. “You’re not at the safe house.”
Silence.
Then a heavy sigh that sounds older than we are.
“No. I’m…at the castle. With Mom and Dad.”
Ice floods my veins so quickly I almost sway.
The castle.
Fuck.
“But why?” My pulse pounds in my throat. “You shouldn’t be…” I can’t untangle the thousand fears crashing together in my head, so I settle for, “You should be home.”
Safe.
In bed.
Resting.
“Mom and Dad called me in.” His voice drops lower, threaded now with something worse than weakness.
Fear.
“Things are bad here, Bry. Really bad.” Another pause. I can practically see him glancing over his shoulder, checking the corridor beyond his door. “They’re launching attacks. On Noth towns. They’re calling it a ‘strategic offensive,’ but I saw the maps. They’re targeting civilian centers.”
The world tilts.
Noth towns.
Families.
Children.
Innocents.
Fragments of my battle strategy classes at Eros flicker through my mind—charts, simulations, clean lines drawn between military targets and civilian zones. Strike supply chains. Disable command centers. Neutralize trained alphas.
Not this.
Not homes.
Horror slices through me, cold and merciless. I see it instantly: flames devouring rooftops. Smoke clawing at the sky. Mothers clutching children as sirens wail. Streets running red.
And then another memory rises, violent and suffocating.
Canvas scraping against my face. The suffocating stink of damp earth and gasoline. The cramped darkness of a trunk. My wrists bound. My heart pounding so loud I thought it would burst.
Pedro’s mocking voice.
The slow, deliberate sound of his belt buckle sliding free.
Rage detonates inside me, white-hot and blinding.
The two emotions collide—horror and fury—tearing at each other. Empathy and vengeance. Two tidal waves meeting head-on in my chest. The pressure builds behind my eyes until it physically hurts to remain upright.
“Brylee? Are you there?”
Ted’s voice cuts through the noise.
“I’m here,” I manage, though my voice trembles.
“There’s more.” Urgency sharpens his tone. “The council’s talking about reactivating Alpha Team X. Full deployment. All hands.”
The floor drops out from under me.
“No.” The word leaves me as breath, not sound. “No. Ridge was shot less than a week ago. He’s not— He can’t.”
“Alphas heal fast. You know that.” His tone is gentle. Practical. Unforgiving. “And Alpha Team X is the best unit we have. They’re the only ones who can handle this.”
The corridor begins to close in.
The once-wide hall feels narrow.
The lights too bright.
The air too thick. I can’t get enough of it.
My heart slams wildly against my ribs, a trapped bird hurling itself at a cage. Dizziness washes over me in waves. Cold sweat prickles along my spine, and the edges of my vision darken.
I can’t hear Teddie anymore.
Only the roaring in my ears.
I hang up.
The phone slips from my numb fingers and clatters against the polished floor, skidding beneath a row of plastic chairs. The sound feels distant, disconnected from my body.
I’m already moving.
Down the hall. Around the corner.
My body remembers what my mind can’t process.
Small space.
No windows.
The narrow supply closet door appears like a lifeline. I wrench it open and slip inside, shutting the world out with a soft, final click.
Darkness wraps around me immediately. Close. Contained.
Safe.
The air is warmer here, thick with the scent of clean linen and industrial detergent. Shelves line the walls, stacked with folded blankets and boxes of gloves. I press my back against cool metal and slide down until I’m sitting on the tile, knees pulled tight to my chest.
Not blood.
Not smoke.
Not betrayal.
Just soap and cotton.
Breathe.
The word feels far away, but I obey.
In.
Out.
I focus on the slow expansion of my lungs. The deliberate rise and fall of my chest. The scrape of fabric against tile. The steady, tangible facts of the present.
I am here.
I am safe.
I am breathing.
Gradually, the roaring fades. My pulse slows from frantic to furious to merely fast. The dizziness ebbs, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
I rest my forehead against my knees. The cold seeps through the thin fabric of my pants, grounding me in something real and solid.
When I finally lift my head, the panic has burned itself out.
What remains is not softness.
It’s not fear.
It’s something harder. Sharper. Clearer.
Teddie is wrong.
Ridge isn’t ready. Days ago, he was bleeding out under surgical lights, his life measured in seconds and skill.
But if they are sending him back into battle…
If they are sending my mates into fire…
Then they will not go without me.
I am not a princess locked in a tower, waiting for rescue.
I am a member of Alpha Team X.
I am a warrior.
If they are being called into the fray, then so am I.
The vow settles into my bones, heavy and unbreakable. A new foundation poured in steel.
I will not let them face this alone.
And I will never be left behind again.