"You're dying," Corvus states. "Forty-eight hours maximum before complete organ failure. We can help—"
"I'd rather die."
"You don't get to die." Dorian's voice drops to something darker, more raw. "You're mine. You've always been mine. And I'm not letting you throw yourself away out of spite."
"I don't need anyone."
"Your body says otherwise." Corvus pulls out his phone, shows me something—medical data, charts. "Your rejection markers are critical. Your organs are shutting down. We can fix this."
"There is no 'we.'"
"There's always been a 'we,'" Oakley says quietly. "From the moment we scented you—"
"Don't." I take a step back, but my leg gives out.
Dorian catches me before I fall, his arms around me sending conflicting signals through my dying nervous system—relief and revulsion, need and rage.
"Let go—"
The world fractures. My back arches, muscles locking in violent spasm. I hear Dorian curse, feel myself being lifted. His scent floods my senses, making everything worse as my body recognizes its rejected mate and screams for what I won't give it.
"Hospital," Oakley's saying. "We need to—"
"No," Corvus interrupts. "The house. Everything's prepared."
I try to protest but my jaw is locked, teeth clenched. Blood fills my mouth again.
They carry me to the SUV. Dorian slides into the back with me in his lap, my head against his chest. His heartbeat is too fast, desperate. His hands shake as he strokes my hair.
"I have you now," he whispers, and it sounds like both a promise and a threat. "You're never running from me again."
The seizure finally passes as we pull away. I can speak again, though my voice is weak.
"Ben," I whisper. "Tell Ben—"
"Forget him." Dorian's arms tighten. "You're ours. You've always been ours."
"My show—"
"Your show doesn't matter. Theater doesn't matter. Nothing matters except keeping you alive."
"It matters to me."
He looks down at me, and for a moment I see past the Alpha possession to something almost like understanding. "I know," he says quietly. "But you matter more."
The lights of Columbus fade as we head north. Toward wherever they're taking me. Toward whatever they have planned.
The theater token digs into my palm where I'm clutching it. My last piece of the life I chose, the person I was trying to become.
They're taking me somewhere. They have a plan.
And I'm too weak to stop them.
nine
Dorian
ThedrivefromColumbustakes three hours. Vespera unconscious in my lap, her body seizing twice more, each convulsion making my Alpha instincts scream. Corvus keeps checking her pulse while Oakley drives too fast through the dark.
