chapter 60
An: Not edited and im trying my best to get this to an end.
I think next chapter is going to be better since this is a filler.
"Broken..."
The voice seeped through the fog of sleep before I even opened my eyes. Low, dramatic, and completely off-key.
"How could you do this to me..."
I groaned into the pillow and pulled the blanket higher, but it was useless. The voice only grew louder, echoing off the wooden beams of the bedroom like it belonged on a stage instead of my recovery.
"...out of all the women in the world... you had to go and cheat on me-"
"Abdie," I croaked, my throat dry and raw. I immediately knew it was my irritating best friends voice.
Silence fell for half a second. Then, bright and shameless:
"...I wasn't cheating, I was networking!"
A burst of laughter exploded from somewhere just beyond the bedroom door, and despite myself, a weak laugh slipped out of me too. The sound was barely a breath, but my ribs flared in protest instantly.
"Ow..."
The door creaked open, and Abdie's head poked around the frame with a grin that could only be described as criminally pleased with himself. "I knew you were awake."
"You've been singing for the last five minutes," I muttered, shifting against the pillows. "Everyone probably knows I'm awake."
He stepped inside anyway, undeterred. "I prefer to call it serenading. It's therapeutic and good for brain functioning."
"You were murdering a perfectly good song."
Abdie gasped and pressed a hand to his chest like I'd shot him. "I'll have you know I have the voice of an angel."
" A fallen angel," I said.
"Ferial, you wound me every damn time I try to make you better." He laughed clutching his stomach as he moved closer to my side.
The nurse standing beside my bed couldn't help it. She burst into laughter and tried to smother it behind her clipboard, but her shoulders still shook. "I'm sorry," she said, still smiling. "I wasn't expecting that."
"I get this every day since I could remember," I sighed, though my lips twitched. For a moment, the pain in my chest didn't feel quite so heavy.
Abdie strutted further into the room, both hands wrapped around an enormous fruit basket that looked like it had been raided from the estate's main kitchen. "I brought healthy things. For the broken and surviving patient."
I eyed the basket, then him. "Did you buy that?"
He considered the question. "No."
"Did you steal it?"
"I prefer the word relocated and put to good use. It sounds less criminal and more... resourceful."
The nurse pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"You definitely shouldn't have heard that," Abdie agreed cheerfully.
She shook her head, but her smile didn't fade as she finished checking the IV line in my arm and adjusted the pillows propping me up.
Every movement sent a dull, grinding ache through my ribs, and my left shoulder was still strapped tightly against my body.
My lower half was worse - a strange, inconsistent thing.
Sometimes I could feel the press of the blankets, the faint tingle of nerves trying to wake up.
Other times, there was nothing at all. The doctors said its progress.
Some days, it didn't feel like enough progress was being made.
The nurse must have seen something in my expression, because she paused. "Any increased pain?"
"A little," I admitted. "Nothing new."
"I'll bring your medication shortly," she said, her voice gentling. "Try not to move too much before then."
She offered me another warm smile before slipping out, leaving Abdie and me alone. He dragged a chair closer to the bed and dropped into it with a sigh that sounded too heavy for him. For a moment, he just looked at me. Really looked.
"You look much better," he said finally.
"I know," I answered automatically, because it was easier than saying anything real.
"No, seriously." His usual grin was gone, replaced by something quieter, more careful. "You looked... really bad, Ferial. When they brought you back."
The words settled between us, and suddenly the air in the room felt thinner. I remembered it in fragments - the cold, the cave, the way the water had swallowed every sound. The panic. The way my body had stopped listening to me. And then... nothing.
"I heard you tried climbing out," he said, his voice low.
"I wasn't staying in there," I whispered. "Not with the water rising and my body failing."
"You almost died."
"I noticed and yet im still here."
Silence stretched. For once, Abdie didn't have a joke ready to throw at it. He stared down at his hands, fingers twisting together. "When Alpha Dante called me... when he told me what happened..." He swallowed hard. "I thought-"
He couldn't finish.
I reached over as far as my sore body would allow, my fingers brushing against his hand. It was awkward, and the IV tugged at my skin, but I needed him to feel it. "I'm still here, Abdie."
"I know." He gave a rough, sad smile. "But I don't..."
Neither of us spoke for a while after that.
The sunlight shifted across the polished floorboards, catching on the fresh flowers someone had left by the balcony doors.
The room itself was beautiful in a way that felt unreal - dark wooden beams across a high ceiling, wide windows that overlooked endless forest, the faint scent of cedarwood and whatever soap Dante used lingering in the air.
It was comfortable. Safe. And still completely unfamiliar.
Eventually, Abdie cleared his throat and forced his grin back into place, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "So... I've officially informed everyone that you're impossible."
"I've always been impossible and well loved in district Abdie," I said.
"True. But now you're medically certified impossible and critical but stable. Makes it seem way more official."
I laughed, and this time it didn't hurt quite as much. "You really are ridiculous."
"I've made peace with it." He leaned back in the chair, propping one ankle over his knee. "The estate's been weird without you, you know."
"Oh?"
"Lina keeps baking."
"That's not normal, especially for her."
"She's stress baking. We now have enough bread to feed a small country. I think her Jim's gained five kilos."
I smiled despite myself. "And Jim?"
"Hovering. Constantly. Him and Lina won't admit they're getting together, but they're disgustingly adorable about it."
"They're exhausting," I said.
"They're family," he corrected, and the way he said it made my chest tighten.
We fell into another comfortable quiet, the kind that only existed with people who'd seen you at your worst and stayed anyway.
My eyes drifted around the room again, taking in the details I'd been too tired to notice before.
This was Dante's bedroom. The Alpha's bedroom. The thought alone was intimidating.
"Abdie," I said slowly. "This is his room."
"Yep."
"He gave it up for me after what happened."
"He said if you're recovering, you're doing it where he can keep an eye on you. No arguments. He threatened three doctors yesterday when they suggested moving you back to the medical wing."
I blinked. "What happened?"
Abdie's grin turned wicked. "He reminded them he's six-foot-five. Then his wolf glared. They surrendered immediately."
I covered my face with my hand, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Oh no. I am never living that down."
"Nope. You're stuck with the overprotective mate reputation now. Embrace it."
Before I could respond, his expression softened again. "Your grandparents called. Twice yesterday."
My heart squeezed so fast it hurt. "They did?"
"They know you were hurt. Dante told them. Said they deserved the truth." He paused. "They've been worried sick, Fee. Grandma said she's packing the entire district's supply of rooibos and donuts to come nurse you herself and thats without ration restrictions."
Tears pricked unexpectedly at the backs of my eyes, and I had to swallow past the lump in my throat. "I hate making them worry."
"I know." He reached out and squeezed my hand once, firmly. "But you've got more than them and me now. You've got your mates family as well."
The words landed somewhere deep inside me, in a place that had been empty for a long time. After everything - the district, the academy, finding Dante, almost dying - I'd somehow found people. People who chose me. People who stayed.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He shrugged, suddenly awkward. "We're all family now. Get used to it."
Family. I wasn't sure I'd ever truly believed I'd have one. Not until now.
A soft knock interrupted us, and the nurse returned with a small tray holding medication and fresh water. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, smiling at Abdie. "But you've exceeded your five minutes."
"I thought they were werewolf minutes," he shot back. "Those are longer."
"They're still regular minutes. Disappointing, I know."
He sighed dramatically but stood, giving me one last look. "Oh. I almost forgot. Dante's mother wants to visit."
My entire body froze. "Already?"
"Not today," he said quickly, catching my panic. "Whenever you're ready. No pressure."
Ready. I wasn't sure when that would be. Meeting an Alpha's family felt terrifying under normal circumstances. Meeting them while bruised, stitched together, and unable to walk felt like a nightmare I hadn't prepared for.
Abdie must have read every thought off my face, because his smile gentled. "They already like you, you know. Especially his mom and the sisters you met already."
"They don't know me well enough though."
"They know enough. They know you saved their son just as much as he saved you."
I blinked. "I didn't-"
"You did," he said firmly. "And they've never seen Dante love someone the way he loves you. That's all they need to know."
Emotion tightened painfully in my throat, and I couldn't speak past it.
"No pressure," he said again, softer. "Although my vote is to wait until you're capable of throwing something at his family membedz. You'll need to be fully armed with comfortable emotions."
"I can't even sit up properly and you talking about comfortable emotions." I said.
"Exactly. We need you at full strength for maximum impact."
The nurse laughed as Abdie finally disappeared out the bedroom door, his voice still echoing down the hall. She shook her head and began checking my blood pressure, her movements efficient but kind.
"He certainly brings energy with him," she said.
"That's one word for it," I agreed.
"I think it's lovely," she said. "You've got people who care about you, Luna. That matters more than any medicine."
I looked toward the doorway where Abdie had gone.
Then around the bedroom Dante had given up without hesitation.
Then down at the mate bond bracelet wrapped around my wrist, the metal warm against my skin.
He handed that to me not too long after I woke up.
A physical way for me to see our bond. And another reason to keep holding on and hoping for a future with Dante.