She should have had us all along. “Do you think we could have stopped this?”
Abrams knows what I’m asking. He answers patiently, as if I don’t ask the same question every single time we talk. “It’s impossible to say.”
A politician’s answer. He always says the same thing, never giving a clear response. I clear my throat before I look up. “For real, doc. Doyouthink we could have stopped the change happening to her?”
If we hadn’t rejected her. If we’d embraced the bond the first time we’d felt it, opened up that link between us instead of slamming the door closed. If we’d bitten her to lock it in, if we wore Kennedy’s teeth in our necks with pride instead of pushing her away.
If she hadn’t been left alone, in pain and suffering that we only increased with the way that we treated her.
We hurt her.
He sighs. “A problem shared is a problem halved, or so they say. It really is impossible to say for certain, Oscar. We’ve never seen a case like this. But if you’re asking for my opinion… Yes, I think it’s possible. It may have diluted the feral effect, or stopped it. Shared it, even. But that’s only a hypothesis. We’ve never been able to test it.”
He sounds disappointed at the loss of a medical opportunity. I look back down to my mate. She doesn’t lookferal. Not like this.
Only the restraints give away what she is. The thick padding secures her to the bed, holding her in place, and I hate the fucking sight of them. “I got the exemption from the board to resuscitate her. What now?”
Day by day. We’re fighting a battle we have no hope of winning.
But at least she’s not dying today.
At his hesitation, I look up, my attention sharpening. “What is it?”
Abrams’ brows knit. “She should not have survived what happened today. No feral has ever survived past twenty-one days, not once they fully turn. This is day twenty-two. Which means that we’re now in uncharted territory. You used your bark on her earlier, Oscar. And she made it through.”
Twenty-two days of watching Kenny pace inside a cage, snarling and snapping until her heart gave out. This place might be marketed as a safe space, but we all know exactly what it is.
A prison.
Hell. This is hell.
Twenty-two days of forcing her heart to keep beating. And watching it stop.
First, on day eight. Again, on day thirteen.
And today.
Frowning, I find myself leaning forward, curving myself over Kennedy. Abrams leans back slightly in his chair. “You think this is some sort of… opportunity?”
You’re not a fucking lab rat, Ken. I won’t let them make you one.
The older male winces. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way. But I’m rather invested in this case, Oscar. And – yes, to be blunt. Thereisan opportunity here. We’ve never truly been able to study the effect of the mating bond on feral omegas before. If it does change things, it won’t only be Kennedy that might benefit from it. And if it doesn’t… well. We’re not losing anything by trying.”
New pathways begin to open up in my mind at his words. Behind me, I feel Jake and Max unfurl, getting to their feet as the air fills with something new.
Something dangerous.
Something that feels a lot likehope.
There’s movement at the doorway, a shadow stretching out across the floor in the corner of my eye, but I don’t turn to look. “Explain to us how this can benefither, and we’ll consider it.”
Abrams glances between us all, spreading his hands. “The original plan was for Kennedy to come here for respite care. End-of-life. The fact that she’s still here suggests that something we didn’t anticipate is interfering in that process.”
“The bond.” The gruff, low words don’t come from me. “You think the mating bond is keeping her alive?”
Abrams glances at Theo, his eyes flickering. “Yes, I do.”
I turn his words over in my head, examining them. “The question is how far that goes. If it only keeps her alive, as… as she is now.”
