Chapter Fourteen
Losing Him Is Not an Option
IMOGEN GALLAGHER
Every jolt of the truck, every rut in the road, sends a fresh wave of terror through me. My heart throbs wildly, hammering in time with the lurches of the vehicle.
Each pothole, each sudden swerve, reflects in the frantic rhythm of my pulse as we fly down a road away from Ash Hollow and toward O’Connor territory.
When they veer off the familiar path Aiden took me the other day, confusion momentarily drowns my fear. “Where the hell are you going?” The question erupts from me, my voice taut and raspy, barely audible over the wind’s roar and engine’s growl.
There’s a hesitant space of silence before Bast hollers back through the open back cab window, “To the witches.”
The coven. The secret place Meredith has only mentioned in passing. Curiosity and questions buzz around my brain like insects, but I swat them away. Now isn’t the time.
Right now only one thing matters—Liam.
His body is sprawled in the bed of the truck, a haunting display of vulnerability. His skin, usually sun-kissed and warm, is pallid, almost ghostly against the dark bed liner. His chest rises and falls with shallow, ragged breaths. The sound fills me with overwhelming fear.
He’s lost too much blood and it’s still seeping out, covering the tarp and the bed of the truck. At least one bullet found an artery, a river of life now flowing the wrong way. Even with the supernatural healing of his wolf, the battle against time is one he’s losing right in front of me.
Fear and helplessness claw at my insides. I cling tighter to the toolbox handle and press my other hand onto Liam’s shoulder, trying to lend him some of my strength.
But I can only hold on, praying to Fate that we’ll make it to the witches in time.
Liam needs to survive. He has to.
The alternative is too devastating to contemplate.
The truck veers abruptly off the road, plunging straight into a thicket of ash trees. My heart leaps into my throat as I brace for impact, but there is none. The truck barrels through the trees as if they’re mere apparitions, phantoms of the real world.
Once we’re through, there’s nothing. Just a peaceful clearing, a circle of small stones to our right, looking slightly out of place and very man-made. While an eerie calmness blankets the place, my emotions churn wildly beneath the surface.
“What the hell is this?” I blurt out. My pulse roars in my ears, a deafening drumbeat against the silence of the clearing. “Who are you? There’s no door. How do we get inside?”
“We’re his brothers and those rocks are the door,” the younger man responds, his voice laced with an urgency that ripples fear down my spine.
The rocks?
He and Bast jump out of the truck with an agility I can’t match in my current state. They wrench open the tailgate, prying Liam from my grasp with a finality that sends a new wave of terror coursing through me.
No. No. No.
The sudden roar of an engine renews my panic. My heart stammers in my chest as I whip around, my mind conjuring a horde of angry villagers armed with pitchforks.
But it’s Aiden.
Relief and fear intertwine in a twisted dance inside me as he jumps out of his truck, rushing toward us with an alarmed expression. “What happened?”
“Fire at the pavilion, then a shooter with a rifle. Liam took at least two shots saving Gen. She was the target.” Bast’s voice is as tense as a bowstring.
Bast and the younger brother’s arms cradle Liam. Together they march toward the ring of stones, their hurried steps conveying their desperation.
“Open the door. We’re losing him, Aiden,” Bast pleads, the tremor in his voice a harrowing reflection of the terror coiling around my heart.
My chest tightens painfully. The coppery scent of Liam’s blood clings in the air, wrapping around me like a shroud. I swallow hard against the wave of nausea that surges through me. Fear, bitter and icy, lodges itself in my throat.
Powerless, I watch. My hands tremble with the desire to reach out, to feel Liam’s pulse beneath my fingertips, to reassure myself that he’s still alive.
Aiden leaps into action, uttering a phrase in what I’ve been told was old Welsh—the language of magick. But wolves can’t do magick.
Liam’s two brothers surge forward, urgency palpable in their every move. Then they step across the ring of small white stones and vanish into thin air.
My breath hitches in my throat. Fear and awe thread through my veins.
Liam!
I’m a werewolf. I’m the very definition of supernatural. I read fantasy romance books where fantastical things happen all the time, but I’m not prepared for this.
This breaks a whole new boundary of reality. But Rachel had said it was like the Tardis. It was a pocket universe. This is how they’ve stayed hidden for so long...
“It’s okay. Just step through,” Aiden coaxes, his voice a tether pulling me back from the edge of panic and shock.
With a deep breath, I obey. Stepping over the ring of stones through the invisible doorway is like plunging into a river of pure magick. It washes over me, a cascade of bright ethereal energy so potent it makes my skin tingle and my senses sing.
And then, in an instant, everything changes.
Tall, ancient oaks loom overhead, their branches arching toward the sky like silent guardians. The ground beneath my feet is carpeted with lush, mossy grass, a soft cushion against the soles of my boots.
The sky overhead is a deeper hue of blue, the air tinged with an intoxicating blend of earth and fresh-cut grass.
It’s a shift so sudden, so jarring, I’m left breathless.
Ahead there’s a village nestled within what looks like an endless expanse of emerald forest. Houses of stone and wood dot the landscape, and I can see figures moving about in the distance.
A sense of awe wells inside me, momentarily eclipsing the fear gnawing at my heart. It’s beautiful, breathtaking, surreal. But the beauty is a stark contrast to the nightmare I’m living, a cruel juxtaposition that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I’m standing in a different world, a world of magick and mystery, and secrets to be discovered while my own world tips toward disaster. It’s unreal that this exists. I feel just like the characters in the books I read when they find out magick exists. I knew there was some magick. I’m a wolf. But this. I never could’ve imagined this.
Aiden sprints ahead, intercepting a woman who’s rushing toward us from the village. I run to keep up with his pace. Her face is a road map of years lived, etched with lines of wisdom and resilience. Something about her calm confidence soothes the frantic beating of my heart.
We catch up with Liam’s brothers and I stand next to them while Aiden speaks to the woman. They have Liam slung between them on the tarp, using it like a hammock.
“Do you know her?” I manage to croak out to Bast, my voice sounding distant and strained in my own ears.
He nods. “Lila Underwood. One of their best healers. She must’ve felt us come through the barrier.” His voice is grim, but there’s a hint of relief that makes my breath catch. “This is Jackson, I don’t think you’ve met him yet.”
“I’m glad you were both there to help him.” I wring my hands and try to remember I’m not supposed to show affection to Liam. I can’t let anyone know the truth.
Lila points us toward one of the closest cottages—rough stone and timber give it a humble appearance. Bast and Jackson, with Liam sagging between them, lumber ahead. My own steps echo their urgency.
Aiden opens the door for us and a wave of fragrant herbs sweeps over me, mingled with a sweet, musky scent I can’t quite identify. It seeps into my senses, wrapping me in an unexpected comfort that should be out of place in this life-and-death situation.
“Put him here on the table,” Lila orders. Her authority resonates through the room, commanding everyone’s attention. “What happened and how long has it been?”
“He was shot multiple times about twenty minutes ago,” I blurt. Each word is a punch to my gut.
Lila’s gaze snaps to me, her intense gray eyes piercing my own. “You’re his mate?”
A gasp escapes my lips and I recoil. “No. He...he saved my life.” My voice wavers, the gravity of my denial ringing in my ears.
In my heart, though, it’s a confession, a desperate plea to the universe to save the man who had saved me.
“He was guarding her. Gen and I are to be married next week.” Aiden’s voice slices through the thick tension. He takes a step forward, placing a hand on Liam’s shoulder.
The words shatter against my heart, each syllable a painful reminder I’m marrying the wrong man, but I steel my expression and stand unwavering like my father taught me.
“All of you put your hands on him.” Lila’s command reverberates through the hushed space. She turns to a cabinet behind her and pulls out several jars, pouring their contents into a small granite mortar bowl. The rhythmic crushing of the herbs is like a dirge, echoing my own frantic heartbeat.
Everyone does as she asks.
Everyone except me.
Lila turns back to Liam, naked and bloody, wounds still seeping. One in his gut, one in his shoulder. She presses the herb mixture into the wounds, then raises her hands over his chest. “You too, miss. Put your hands on him.”
“She’s not pack or family.” Aiden’s voice breaks through my daze. “She can’t share her magic with him.”
“Are you suddenly a witch, Aiden O’Connor? Do you want your cousin to live?” Lila snaps.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, his voice softer and respectful.
“Do as I say, missy. Hands on the man.”
Taking a deep breath, I step forward between Bast and Jackson, placing my trembling hands flat on Liam’s chest next to all the other male ones. A surge of energy sparks within me, my wolf stirring at the connection. Liam’s heartbeat, weak but present, syncs with my own.
Dread nibbles at my resolve.
Aiden’s gaze is an unspoken question I can’t afford to answer. What if he senses something? What if he unravels the truth we’ve so carefully hidden?
The thought sends a shiver of dread down my spine, but I push it away, focusing instead on willing strength into Liam’s battered body.
Every beat of my heart is a painful echo of the promise Liam and I made to each other. We vowed to sacrifice our mate bond, our natural connection, for the safety of the valley, for the sake of peace.
The approaching marriage isn’t just about me, or Aiden, or even about Liam—it’s about the survival of our packs, the O’Connors, and the preservation of this hidden, mystical refuge. If my uncle or father uncovers the truth, the resulting war will have devastating consequences.
But Fate, the thought of actually losing Liam feels like a blade lodged in my chest.
Lila’s voice rises and falls in an ancient cadence that thrums in my blood. More old Welsh. The words weave a spell, pulling me away from my spiraling thoughts. To my astonishment, bullets begin to wriggle out of Liam’s wounds like something from a superhero movie.
Lila pockets the small, crumpled slugs, and resumes her rhythmic chanting.
The atmosphere in the room morphs around us. The air loses its dense, dread-laden gravity, replacing it with a fluttering sense of relief that makes my heart lighter in my chest.
The thrumming connection between me and Liam surges.
His strength returns. The steady rhythm of his heart syncs with mine. Lila has somehow woven all of our wolf magick together, enhancing Liam’s healing with our shared energy. Relief washes over me like a tidal wave.
He’s going to live. He’s going to live. He’s going to live.
“Very good,” Lila sighs, placing both hands on the table. She leans over Liam, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her face is ashen, exhaustion etching deep lines into her features.
“Come sit down.” Bast is the first to break the silence, circling the table. He gently guides Lila toward a chair, his movements gentle.
“Your brother will be awake and good as new before the next hour.” Her hand pats Bast’s with a maternal warmth.
I swallow hard, the knot in my throat struggling to loosen even with the reassuring statement.
“Thank you, Lila.” Bast’s voice is thick, each word heavy with gratitude.
I let my gaze wander to Aiden, who stands like a sentinel at Liam’s head.
Aiden’s dark eyes are fixed on his cousin with an intensity that speaks volumes, the rigidity in his frame contrasting his natural easy grace. The corners of his mouth are drawn tight, a subtle sign of the worry he’s desperately trying to hide.
His hand, large and capable, rests gently on Liam’s shoulder, a silent oath of brotherhood and loyalty. There’s a tenderness there, a vulnerability that seems almost out of place on his stern features. But it’s there, a quiet testament to the deep bond that exists between him and his cousin.
The pull toward Liam is so strong it physically hurts. Every instinct screams at me to go back to him, to hold his hand, to reassure myself that he’s truly all right. But I can’t.
Not with Aiden watching.
Not with the stakes so high.
“We should get you back to your father’s,” Aiden says, stepping toward me. “The blood moon will be upon us tonight. Your father is expecting you to run with your pack, I’m sure.”
I instinctively step back, mirroring his movements, a silent plea for space.
Which isn’t fair.
He’s doing the best he can. He’s a good man. Kind. A good alpha to his pack from what I’ve seen so far.
“I have a cabin on the mountain where I shift. I don’t run with my father and brothers—ever,” I add, catching the flicker of surprise on his face.
He might think that this time should be different, that the looming threat of Mr. Darcy should change things. But it won’t. Nothing will compel me to run with my family, not even the risk of being shot by a grief-stricken vengeance-bent rancher.
His gaze meets mine and I see that alpha-protective stubbornness reflected back. He’s not letting it go.
“I can’t let you have this, Gen. I’m taking you back home. I would also be a fool to just let you stay alone somewhere for three days during the blood moon with someone out there trying to kill you. And your father would have my head. I can’t risk it.”
I know he can’t, but it doesn’t make me any less angry.
“The shooter is Mr. Darcy. My father bought his land and because the man put up a fight about selling, my father arranged to have the poor man’s wife and daughter killed in a car accident. He also had all of Darcy’s cattle killed by wolves.” I spit out the story, letting my anger vividly color my father into the villain he is.
All three men growl fuck in sync.
Even Lila releases a gasped damn .
I try again. Just in case. “You can let me go. He won’t care.”
“Gen,” he says, his voice hardening with the command of an alpha.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
I need to get away from him, not have him stuck to me like one of my father’s watchdogs.
Now I have to hold myself together longer.
And hold back the truth trying to claw its way to the surface with every beat of my heart.
I don’t want this. With every breath. I don’t want this.