34. Rip
Chapter 34
Rip
T wo healers and Lucielle come in throughout the night. None of them can wake Tallie up. There’s also no wolfsbane ready to cure her yet. The bite she received from the rogue expedited the cursed sickness, meaning Michael and his people are getting stronger.
Neither Imelda nor I leave the infirmary that night. I left the room twice. Once to speak with Hettie and another time to bring my aunt tea and buttered bread. The buttered bread is left untouched on the nightstand, but Imelda clasps the tea in her hands, absentmindedly sipping from it every so often.
My mind isn’t my own. I’m plagued with images of my cousin lying lifeless in bed. What hurts the most is Hettie’s face when I sent her away. Out of everything she admitted to me tonight, the one thing I truly believe is that she’s sorry. That was evident in the pain on her face and the plea in her voice.
I’m a mate torn. I’m so fucking mad at her. Mad that she took this risk and lied to me. Mad that Tallie got hurt. Despite all of that, though, I want to take Hettie into my arms and console her. I was rough on her—for good reason—but it didn’t make looking at her broken and sad any easier.
I grapple with my decision to send her away for hours, crammed in a small, uncomfortable chair. Darkness soon gives way to daylight as the sun peeks in through the curtain. It illuminates Imelda’s face. She stares at Tallie, unmoving. Since we’ve been here, Imelda took her daughter’s hand in hers and hasn’t let go since. Not even when the healers came to check on Tallie.
I don’t think we could pry her away from her daughter even if we tried.
I feel so fucking useless right now, and my body hums with pent-up energy. I need to move. Need to run. Need to do something other than sit here and feel bad for myself.
I push out of the chair with more force than necessary. Imelda jumps at my abrupt movement, giving me a strange look. “We should eat. Do you need food?”
I don’t wait for her response or give her time to refuse as I leave the room. My body works on autopilot, walking down the hall. I pass a few familiar faces but don’t have the energy to attempt conversation. When I pass the waiting room where Hettie and Grass were last night, my stride slows.
I don’t know why I’m disappointed to see no one there. I made Hettie go home, sending guards to take her directly to our room like a damn criminal. Of course she won’t be waiting out here for me.
I don’t know if that makes me relieved or angry.
Pushing all thoughts of Hettie aside for the time being, I head to the infirmary’s cafeteria. There are only a few people manning the back, and they all greet me when I walk in. I manage a simple smile I hope doesn’t look more like a grimace as I go through the food. I settle on apple cinnamon oatmeal and milk for Imelda. Nothing here looks appetizing for me, but I can hardly demand Imelda eat if I don’t plan on doing the same.
After a moment of thought, I grab another oatmeal and pay for our meals. My walk back to Tallie’s room is slower; fatigue is finally catching up with me. I enter the room, half hoping Tallie will be up and smiling.
She’s not, of course.
But Imelda has moved. She sits at the small round table by the window, letting the sunlight warm her skin. She barely glances my way when I walk in and place our food down on the table. “I hope oatmeal is okay.” I slide over her breakfast.
“Thank you.” It’s the first thing she has said to me in hours. Imelda reaches for the milk, ignoring the oatmeal, and takes a sip.
That’s how we sit for some time. Not saying anything, but finding comfort in each other’s presence. Imelda manages a few bites of her oatmeal. I would have liked to see her eating more, but it’s better than nothing.
“We’ll get her better. I promise,” I reassure her just as much as I hope to reassure myself. I can’t think any other way. Can’t believe in a future without Tallie.
“I know you’ll do all you can.” Her words do little to absolve my guilt. In fact, they only make me feel worse because it’s almost as if she believes Tallie won’t make it.
“I’m sorry, Imelda. What Hettie did is unforgivable?—”
“No, my boy, I do not blame your mate,” Imelda stops me cold. “Tallie is a grown woman who can make her own choices. She made the choice to go and suffered the consequences. I do not blame Hettie. I don’t blame anyone but the rogue responsible. ”
Imelda reaches across the table and grabs my hand. Her touch is warm, filling me in a way only a mother could. “I know you’re angry,” she starts.
“She lied to me, Imelda. She promised me she wouldn’t venture into the woods.”
“I know, and I’m not excusing any of that. But I also don’t believe she defied you out of malice. I believe she wanted to help you so badly that she was willing to risk her own safety for this pack. And do you know why I think she did it?”
I shake my head, afraid of what she’ll say. Afraid because, deep down, I think I already know the answer, and I yelled at her for it.
“I think she did it because she loves you and this pack. She’s working as a Luna, and, sometimes, no matter how good the intentions are, people get hurt. The jobs of a Luna and her Pack Alpha will never be easy. But it seems to me that Hettie will fight for her pack. Are you willing to fight for her?”
My aunt’s words replay in my head throughout the rest of my day. Am I willing to fight for her? This is the question I think about the rest of the day, long since leaving my aunt and cousin.
Still needing time to clear my mind, I head to the lab, checking in on Lucielle. She’s in the middle of crushing up the wolfsbane Hettie found when I walk in.
“King Alpha! So glad you’re here.” There’s a slightly frenzied look in her expression, but I imagine that has to do with not sleeping much these days. Lucielle is a dedicated healer and often forgets to take care of herself.
Seems to be a theme of my pack.
“Do you have news for me?” I walk over to her station, careful not to mess anything up.
A mortar and pestle sit atop the table with various vials, all filled with different substances. Papers are strewn about, and a pile of books is stacked precariously close to the edge. It’s chaos, but I’ve learned over the years that Lucielle works best in chaos.
“Yes, that last batch of wolfsbane you supplied me is our most potent to date. I’ve already made twice the number of cures, and I’ve only used about half the supply,” she says excitedly, a wide grin on her face. It’s contagious, and I can’t help but return it.
“My team can administer cures as early as tomorrow evening, as soon as the solution settles.” She goes into the science of the resting period, but it makes little sense to me. What I hear instead is that Hettie, once again, saved our pack.
And I treated her like a traitor.
I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. She deserved so much more from me, and I chose anger. Much like the rest of the men in her life did.
Lucielle rattles on about her cure, and I nod, interrupting her, “You have my full support. Do what needs to be done.”
I can’t stay here anymore. I need to find Hettie. Lucielle looks taken aback but nods. “Of course, King Alpha. We will inform you if we have any updates.”
I nod before heading out. The distance between the lab and the packhouse isn’t long, but it feels like an eternity before I reach home. Two guards are stationed at the door. I turn to the one on the left and ask, “Where’s my mate?”
The guards share a look before the one I spoke to finally answers, “We haven’t seen her, King Alpha. Perhaps the dining room?”
I thank him before heading to the dining room. Even before I enter, I know she’s not there. I can’t feel her. It’s possible she’s shut down the bond between us, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s more likely that my mate isn’t here at all. Hoping I’m wrong, I search the rest of the packhouse.
I check my study, the library, and the courtyard. Hettie is in none of those places. Worry and doubt creep in. This is an all-too-familiar feeling, but there’s still one place I haven’t checked yet.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the second floor of the house in seconds. I dig deep into our bond, but don’t feel Hettie. I tell myself it’s because she’s upset and has blocked me from feeling her. But I know the truth.
When I reach our bedroom, I test the knob. Not locked, so I open it. I prepare myself for Grass’s excited greeting, but the golden-haired dog never comes. It’s dark in our bedroom. The curtains are closed, and the fire has long ago died out in the fireplace. It’s cold here, and though the temperature rarely affects me, I can’t help but shudder. Hettie doesn’t like it this cold.
The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar. I check in here, but it’s empty. There’s no condensation on the mirror or water droplets leftover in the tub. I check the closet next, but Hettie isn’t in there either. Panic threatens to overtake me, and I have no one to blame but myself.
I try one last effort to reach her through our bond, spreading it as far as it can go. I don’t sense her anywhere on this estate. Her scent, which usually overtakes the room, is faint. Almost as if she hasn’t been here in a while.
She’s not fucking here. Out of anger, I grab the blanket atop my hastily made bed and rip it off. It’s irrational, but part of me hoped Hettie was hiding under the blanket, ready to pop out. It’s empty, though.
In my fit of anger, a piece of folded paper floats off the bed and falls to the floor. I almost ignore it until I see my name written across the front. I snatch it up, body shaking as I open it. It’s from Hettie, and her words make me feel true, tangible fear. The words are few, but they have me running through the house like I’m chasing her ghost.
Might as well be.
I’ll fix this. I’m sorry, and I love you.
Hettie