I kept replaying that look on his face—the way everything clicked in his head, that soft “Oh,” so detached, so unlike him. Like he’d shut down to process it all in that methodical way I’d come to know so well. And the longer I thought about it, the worse it got.
By the time we reached the clinic, Bishop was prepped and waiting. One look at Noah’s unconscious body, and Bishop wasrushing us inside, his voice sharp and professional. I barely had time to set Noah down before Bishop started barking orders.
“Everyone else, out. Now.”
Mylo stood beside me, silent, his eyes wide, face pale as a sheet. I wanted to pull him close, tell him everything was going to be okay—that we were going to be okay.
But I didn’t. Because I wasn’t sure it was true. And I was terrified he’d never want to speak to me again.
Instead, I watched him sit down, his shoulders trembling just slightly, like he was holding it together by a thread. Mylo—my mate—who was usually so full of life, looked like a shadow of himself. And it was all my fault.
Yeah, because you’re the biggest coward to ever coward.
The rest of the family arrived in the next few minutes—Hope, Indigo, Sarah, Knox, Law. They didn’t say much, but their looks spoke volumes. Worry. Blame. Disappointment. I carried it all on my shoulders, where it belonged. I should’ve told Mylo the truth ages ago. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be here now.
Mylo sat hunched over with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held all the answers. I kept searching for the right words—anything—but every time I opened my mouth, I saw that same look in his eyes: fear, betrayal. I’d put that there.
I’d been so afraid of losing him that I’d done the one thing guaranteed to push him away.
“He’ll be okay,” Hope said softly, breaking the silence. She gave Mylo’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Noah’s tough. He’ll pull through.”
Mylo nodded, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles twitching. “It’s my fault,” he whispered, though I could hear every word clear as day.
“No,” Hope said firmly, her voice sharp with anger. “It’s their fault.”
I knew we’d have to deal with Noah’s family—his real pack. They had a point. Mylo had crossed into their territory, and there would be consequences. But that didn’t make this any easier.
“I’m sorry,” Mylo whispered.
Hope sighed and wrapped her arm around him, even though he stayed hunched over. “He’s going to be fine, Mylo. Trust me.”
I stepped closer, my boots scuffing the clinic floor. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.
“Mylo,” I whispered.
He finally looked up. The pain in his eyes hit me like a punch to the gut. “I… I’m sorry. I should’ve?—”
“Not now,” he interrupted, his voice hoarse. He shook his head and looked away. “I can’t... I can’t think about this right now. Not until I know Noah’s okay.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “Okay. I understand.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. I leaned back against the wall, my eyes never leaving him. Mylo was right. Now wasn’t the time. Noah was fighting for his life in the next room, and I was standing here, trying to fix things that couldn’t be fixed—not yet.
You let it get to this point.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Finally, the door to the back room opened, and Bishop walked out, wiping his hands on a towel. He looked exhausted, but there was a small smile on his face.
“He’s stable,” Bishop said, and the tension in the room eased. “He’s going to be okay. It’ll take time, but he’ll recover.”
Before I could react, Mylo shot to his feet and bolted from the room.
“Mylo!” I called after him, my heart slamming against my ribs.
He was already gone.
I moved to follow, but Hope’s voice stopped me.
“Let him go for now,” she said gently.
