Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Darius
Blood pools beneath Violet’s body, spreading across the arena floor like spilled wine. The metallic scent chokes me before I can process what I’m seeing.
“Healer!” The word rips from my throat, raw and desperate. “I need a healer, now!”
The crowd that had been frozen in shock erupts into chaos.
Screams pierce the air. Feet thunder against stone as people scatter in every direction.
Someone wails. Another shifter shouts orders I can’t make out.
The noise crashes over me like a wave, but I stay on my knees beside my mate, unable to move.
My hands hover over the wound in her shoulder, shaking. I’m afraid to touch her. Afraid I’ll make it worse. Afraid I’ll lose her if I let go.
The color drains from her face. Each breath is shallow and rapid, rattling in her chest. I can see the pulse in her throat: too fast, too frantic.
“Violet.” My voice breaks. “Stay with me.”
Three healers push through the crowd and stop next to us, their faces grim as they see Violet’s wound up close. Behind them, soldiers are running toward us. I turn my head just enough to see Ethan arriving at the arena entrance, his eyes going wide. He rushes over.
“Zion did this. Don’t let him escape.” My words come out harsh, a command that brooks no argument. I jerk my chin toward where Zion disappeared into the crowd. “Track him. Capture him. I want him alive.”
Ethan’s jaw tightens. He nods once, then gestures to the soldiers. “You heard him. Move!”
They surge past me, but I’ve already turned back to Violet. The healers are crouched around her now, their hands moving quickly, checking her pulse, examining the gunshot wound.
“Silver,” one of them says, her voice tight. She’s an older woman, with gray streaking through her dark hair. She looks up at me, and I see the fear in her eyes. “Silver bullet. Still lodged inside.”
My heart stops. Silver. Poison to our kind. Deadly if left inside too long.
“Take it out.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears.
The healer shakes her head, her expression grave. “But Alpha, we need to prepare. We need proper tools, a clean—”
“Take it out, now.” I lean forward, and she flinches at whatever she sees in my face. “We don’t have time for preparations. Do it.”
She exchanges glances with the other two healers, a middle-aged man and a woman who can’t be more than twenty-five. They’re scared. I can smell it on them.
“Alpha Darius,” the older healer says carefully, “we’ll have to cut into her flesh. Dig deep. Without anesthesia, without proper equipment, it will be…difficult.”
“Then make it quick.” I force myself to release Violet’s hand to give them space to work. “Get that poison out of her.”
They move with practiced efficiency, pulling supplies from their bags. The male healer produces a wicked-looking blade, and my wolf snarls inside me at the sight of it approaching my mate. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to shift, to tear apart anyone who causes her pain.
The first incision makes Violet’s body jerk. She’s unconscious, but some part of her registers the violation. I taste blood in my mouth and realize I’ve bitten through my lip.
“Deeper,” the older healer murmurs to her colleague. “It’s lodged near the bone.”
Blood flows from the opening. The young woman uses cloth after cloth to soak it up, but it keeps coming. It’s too much. Violet has already lost so much blood.
“Got it.” The male healer’s voice is strained. He holds up the forceps, a small silver bullet gripped between the metal teeth. I can see how the silver has darkened, corroded by contact with Violet’s hybrid blood.
But the older healer isn’t celebrating. She’s leaning close, examining the wound with a frown that makes my stomach drop.
“Tell me,” I demand. “What is it?”
“The poison.” She glances at me, and I see the truth in her eyes before she speaks. “It has already begun to spread through her system. I can see traces of it in her veins, the discoloration of the tissue around the wound.”
The world tilts. “Fix it.”
“With everything she’s been through, her body…” She trails off, accurately reading the look on my face. “We’ll do everything we can.”
“She better survive.” My voice is quiet. Deadly quiet. All three healers go pale. “Because if she doesn’t, every single person who had a hand in this will wish they’d never been born.”
The healer swallows hard. “We need to move her to the clinic. We can’t treat this here. We need equipment, specialized medicines.”
“Lead the way.” I’m already scooping Violet into my arms, careful of the wound in her shoulder.
She weighs nothing, like she might float away if I don’t hold her tightly enough.
Her head lolls against my chest, and the sight of it makes me tremble inside.
Her scent wraps around me, faint but still there.
Jasmine and something wild, something uniquely Violet.
My wolf recognizes her even like this, and it’s the only thing keeping me from losing control completely. “Let’s move. Now.”
The older healer takes charge, barking orders. Other healers who remained in the arena fall in behind us as we push through the crowd. People make way for us, their faces blurring together. I don’t care about any of them. Don’t care about the whispers, the shocked expressions.
All I care about is the woman in my arms and the fact that she’s still breathing. Barely.
The clinic is a thirty-minute run from the arena.
I push myself harder than I ever have, feet pounding against dirt roads, then pavement.
The healers have to shift to be able to keep up with me.
My arms burn from holding my mate, but I don’t slow down.
Can’t slow down. Each second stretches, elastic and terrible.
Violet’s breathing hitches twice, her body convulsing against my chest, and each time, I think this is it. This is when I lose her.
But then she settles again. Her heart keeps beating against my ribs. And I keep running.
The clinic doors burst open at our approach.
The healers who have been running with us immediately shift back and into professional mode, reaching for Violet.
The air inside hits me, cool and sharp with the scent of antiseptic and something herbal I can’t identify.
It’s too clean. Too sterile. It smells like death pretending to be healing.
They try to take my mate from me, but my arms lock around her automatically. I can’t let go. Can’t surrender her to these strangers, even though I know they’re her only chance.
“Alpha.” The older healer puts her hand on my arm. Her touch is gentle but firm. “You need to let us work. Please.”
The “please” breaks through my haze. I look down at Violet’s face, memorizing every detail.
The curve of her cheekbone. The dark fan of her lashes against her skin.
There’s a small scar near her temple I’ve traced with my fingers a dozen times.
A freckle just below her ear that I’ve kissed.
All the small things that make her mine.
“Save her.” My voice breaks on the words. “Please save her.”
“We’ll do everything we can.” The healer nods to her colleagues, and they take Violet from my arms. “Wait here. Someone will update you as soon as we know anything.”
Then they’re gone, disappearing through double doors that swing shut with a finality that echoes in my head.
I look down. Violet’s blood is drying on my chest, sticky and dark. My hands are stained with it. I can feel it under my nails, tacky between my fingers.
I killed my father less than an hour ago. His blood is on these same hands.
The thought that I might lose them both in the same day makes my knees buckle.
I take a deep breath and look around me. The waiting area is small. Just a few benches, some outdated magazines on a side table, fluorescent lights that buzz overhead like angry insects. The temperature is wrong, too cold; it makes me think of morgues. Someone hands me a shirt, and I pull it on.
I should sit down. Try to collect myself. Instead, I pace, my wolf clawing at my insides, demanding we break down those doors and stay with our mate.
My father’s face flashes through my mind. The moment I grabbed his jaw in both hands. The terrible crack of his neck breaking. The way his body went limp and shifted back to human form as he died.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image. I can’t think about that now. Can’t process what I’ve done. If I let myself feel the full weight of killing my own father, I’ll shatter, and Violet needs me whole.
But my hands won’t stop shaking.
Time loses meaning. I count my steps. Fourteen paces from one wall to the other. I’ve made the circuit so many times, the linoleum is probably wearing out.
Footsteps approach, different from the soft-soled shoes of the medical staff. Heavy boots. I know that stride.
Ethan appears in the doorway, his clothes torn and dirty. Blood spatters his face, but I can tell it’s not his own. His expression tells me everything before he opens his mouth.
“He got away.” Ethan’s voice is flat. “I’m sorry, Darius. We tried.”
Rage explodes through me. I spin toward the nearest wall and drive my fist into it. The plaster cracks. Pain flares up my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the fury burning in my chest.
Ethan says nothing.
I hit the wall again. And again. Blood streaks the dented surface, but my anger only coils tighter, a serpent made of flame wrapped around my lungs.
“Darius.” Ethan’s hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me mid-swing. “I need you to breathe. Hurting yourself won’t help Violet.”
The sound of her name cuts through the red haze. I sag against the wall, my forehead pressed to the cool surface, trying to get control of myself.
“They tortured her, Ethan.” The words come out raw. “My father and Zion. They tortured her.”