46. Have I lost you, my mate?
We turn a corner, then another. I lose track of how many. The tunnels all look the same—dim lighting, that same cool air.
Mera guides me securely through the labyrinth of passages and doors. I can hear distant sounds—voices, maybe footsteps—echoing from somewhere deeper in the complex but we don't meet anyone. Luckily.
Finally we arrive at a door that looks different. Sealed. Heavy. There's a small keypad beside it, glowing faintly in the darkness.
Mera pulls out a card and holds it against the keypad. A beep. Then a click. The door opens.
"We're entering the hospital wing now," she says without turning toward me.
"Mera, what exactly happened to him?" I ask, almost too afraid to hear her answer.
"He has a head trauma—severe concussion.
Currently he isn't waking up. No bleeding, no fractures.
The swelling's gone down, pupils are reactive, but he's still unconscious.
I've tried everything—stimulants, pain response tests, nothing.
Physically, he should be awake by now. But he's not responding to any external stimuli.
I thought if you were there, if he could sense you through the bond.
.." She looks at me helplessly, and I can feel her desperation.
"He might wake up," I finish her sentence, sensing the panic rising inside me. Because what if he doesn't?
"Yes, exactly." She stops in front of a door but doesn't move to open it. "How is your head, Communicator?" Her eyes search my face with genuine concern.
"Good." She doesn't look convinced, her hand hovering near my arm like she's ready to catch me if I fall. Truth is, at this moment the only thing I feel is panic in my chest. Nothing else.
"He's in here. Next guard rotation is in fifteen minutes. That's all the time I can give you. I'll wait outside and stall if I have to."
I feel even more pressure in my chest, tightening like a fireball. I can't feel him. Something is different.
Before, I could feel him.
But when I move to open the door, Mera stops my hand.
"Communicator—" She stops herself and takes a deep breath. "Just be prepared that if he doesn't wake up, I will try to get you out of here as fast as possible and..."
I don't even listen to her. Her voice starts to fade away because for the first time in my life, I don't want to run from this. I want to stay. As long as he is here, I want to stay.
"Thank you, Mera," I interrupt her and move to open the door.
I stop for a second in the doorway before stepping into the room. It's nothing like a human hospital.
The walls are the same carved stone as the tunnels, but softer somehow—lined with woven tapestries that absorb sound.
Oil lamps cast a warm, golden glow across everything. There's a plush carpet underfoot, thick enough that my footsteps are silent. The bed is tucked in the corner, piled with blankets and pillows, built low to the ground like a nest.
My heart stops for a second when I see him.
He looks too big for the bed. An IV line runs from his left arm to a bag of clear fluids hanging on a metal stand—the only cold, clinical thing in the room.
Heart monitor wires snake under the blankets, connected to a small screen that beeps steadily, displaying his pulse, oxygen levels, blood pressure.
All stable. All normal. His chest rises and falls with mechanical regularity.
There's a bandage wrapped around his head, clean white against his dark hair, covering the wound at his temple.
Before I even notice, I'm already beside him, taking his face in my hands and softly caressing his cheeks.
"I'm—" The tears start to well up even though I don't want them to.
"I'm so sorry. I made a mess of everything." I run my fingers through his thick hair.
He doesn't move.
I stay there beside him. Minutes pass. I lose track of time.
Then I hear voices outside. Mera's voice, casual but strained. "Everything's stable. No change."
"We need to check." Male. Firm.
"I just checked ten minutes ago. He's resting."
"Our orders are every half hour." A different voice, suspicious now. "Why are you blocking the door?"
"I'm not blocking—I'm just saying there's no point disturbing him when—"
"Step aside, Mera."
"Look, his vitals are fine, the monitors would alert us if anything changed—"
"Why don't you want us in there?" The first voice again, harder now. "What's going on?"
Footsteps. Getting closer. Multiple sets.
"Nothing's going on, I just think he needs rest—"
"Then it won't hurt for us to look." A pause. "Move."
My head snaps toward the door. They're coming.
I look around frantically. Where can I hide? There's nowhere. The room is small, open.
Then I feel it. His hand. Closing around mine.
I freeze, looking down at our joined hands. His grip is weak but deliberate.
The door bursts open.
Three guards stride in. Mera follows, her face tight with worry.
"Mera, what the fuck?" one of them says, spotting me. "Are you serious right now?"
"No—" Mera starts.
A guard reaches for me. I jerk back, my free hand coming up.
"Don't touch her," Mera snaps, stepping between us.
"Move aside."
"She's not going anywhere."
The guard shoves Mera aside. She stumbles back against the wall but launches herself forward immediately, grabbing at his arm. "Don't—"
He shakes her off easily. She goes for him again, this time clawing at his shoulder.
Another guard moves toward me. I jerk back, but he's faster, stronger. His hand clamps around my wrist like iron.
I strike at his face with my free hand. The impact barely moves him.
Mera's still fighting the first guard, pulling at his arm, trying to drag him back. "Stop—just stop—"
"Mera, enough!" He spins, pushing her away harder this time.
The guard holding me yanks me forward. I twist, desperate, and kick at his legs. My foot connects with his knee—not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to throw him off balance for a second.
He staggers. His grip loosens just slightly.
I wrench my arm back, stumbling sideways. My shoulder hits the IV stand. It crashes to the floor.
Mera throws herself at the second guard now, both hands shoving at his chest. "Leave her alone!"
He catches her wrists, pinning them. She doesn't stop—twists in his grip, tries to knee him, her teeth bared. He has to use both hands to hold her still.
"Get off—"
The third guard closes in on me.
"Enough of this," he growls. "Take her out."
"Stop."
Not loud. Not a shout. But everyone goes still.
I turn. He's sitting up in bed, chest bare, the IV still attached to his arm. His eyes are open, fixed on the guards.
He stands. Rips the IV from his arm without a sound.
Doesn't flinch.
Relief floods through me for half a second.
Then I see his face.
Nothing.
No warmth.
No recognition.
Through the bond, I feel nothing.
Just emptiness.
"Who are you?"
His voice is level. Calm. He's looking right at me."Who are you, human?"
I can't breathe.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
The only thing that keeps echoing in my mind is, Have I lost you, my mate?
"Leader, she's dangerous—" one of the guards starts, words tumbling out fast.
He raises one hand. The guard stops mid-sentence.
"What is a human doing in my pack?"
His eyes never leave mine.
"She's your—" Mera begins.
"She's the Communicator," a guard interrupts.
His expression shifts. Serious. Confused. "What is the Communicator doing here?"
"This human betrayed you. Its a long story, but Leader, the Communicator is the reason you were injured, and almost killed. She led you into a trap."
I don't say a word. I just look at him.
There's nothing in his eyes.
Nothing of the trust we built. Nothing of the conversations we had. Gone.
His hand comes up to his head, fingers pressing against the bandage at his temple. He winces. "Fuck," he mutters, barely audible. "I don't—I can't—" He drops his hand, frustration flashing across his face.
Then he looks at me again. Really looks at me. His eyes move over my face like he's searching for something, trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. His gaze lingers on my eyes, my mouth, the way I'm standing.
"What are you doing in here?" he asks again.
"I wanted to see how you are."
He blinks. Confusion crosses his face. "Why?"
I don't answer.
One of the guards shifts forward. "Leader, she's not going to—"
"Out." He doesn't look at the guard. His eyes stay on mine.
The guard stops. "But—"
"All of you. Out."
The guards exchange looks. None of them move.
His head turns slowly toward them. He doesn't say anything. Just looks.
They leave.
The door clicks shut. Now it's just us.
We look at each other. The silence stretches. His jaw tightens.
"What the fuck are you doing in my pack Communicator?"
His hands flex at his sides. Something passes between us—not through the bond, that's still empty—but in the way he's watching me, the way I can't look away.
His hand goes to his head again and his shoulders drop slightly.
"Nothing to say?"
He exhales slowly. When he opens his eyes again, something's changed. The searching look is gone. His jaw sets.
He turns toward the door. "Get back in here."
The door opens immediately. The guards file back in, wary.
"Take her to the guest quarters. Put a guard in front of it."
The guards hesitate.
"Now."
They move immediately. One of them grabs my arm, pulls me toward the door.
I don't resist. I don't look back.
Behind me, I hear him. "Mera. With me."
Not a request.
The door closes.