But she was breathing.
She was alive.
I climbed into the back of the ambulance with her, ignored the shouts of protest, held her hand the whole way to the hospital. I didn’t care about the blood on my shirt, the reek of smoke, the grit in my teeth. All I cared about was the steady, stubborn pulse in her wrist.
I whispered to her, over and over, “You’re alive. You’re alive. I’m here.”
I don’t remember much after that. She was taken to the pack hospital. We were one of the fortunate packs that had actual pack medical doctors. Thanks to Doc we also had a state-of-the-art hospital. Wolves tend to heal faster and need doctors less often than humans, but we do need them occasionally, so having a hospital nearby is another reason Iron Valor pack is envied. The ER was a blur of white lights, shouting, hands tearing at my clothes, patching up my cuts. Bronc showed up, face set, arms folded. He stood by the gurney and watched, as if his will alone could keep her alive.
At some point, they let me see her.
She lay on a hospital bed, bandaged from head to toe. Her face was a mess of bruises, gauze, and tape. She looked like a corpse, but she was warm.
I sat down, took her hand, and waited.
An hour passed. Two.
Then a day went by and she still didn’t wake up.
“Please, little bird. Please come back to us. Rocket needs you. I need you.”
Chapter 19
Parker
Imade it down the stairs in record time. Every step cracked with panic, my left shoe untied and flopping, the phone clamped between chin and shoulder as I ran. I hit the basement floor on a dead sprint. The fluorescent lights hummed, highlighting the furniture and happy activities that had been happening here just hours ago. My voice bounced off the cinderblocks: “Maddie! Are you here? It’s Parker! Shout if you hear me!”
No answer. Nothing but the beat of my heart, the imaginary tick of the timer going off in my head, and the gnaw of fear chewing through my stomach lining.
I scanned the rows of low shelves and bins. Gift wrap, toys, box after box of bikes in pieces. I flipped the light switch for the back rooms, praying the power was still on. The bulbs flickered, barely illuminating the hallway. The phone slipped, and I nearly dropped it before Wrecker’s voice pierced my ear.
“Parker. Stop. You have to get out. Right now. Do you hear me?”
He sounded like he’d been running—out of breath, out of patience, on the edge of howling. It made my hands shake harder.
“I just need to check the last room!” I yelled, banging through a storage closet. Empty. Just reams of colored paper and a metal cart that must have weighed two hundred pounds.
“She’s not in there,” Wrecker said. “You have to trust me. Get to the stairwell, Parker. Now.”
But what if he was wrong? What if I left Maddie behind, and she never had a chance to see her mother and Bronc again? It would be my fault.
“Gimme a sec,” I told him, breathless. “I’ll make it out. I promise.”
“Wren.” That’s what he called me when he was being easy with me. “Please.”
I ran, every part of me pushing my body forward. Turned the corner. There, the last room. I flung open the door. Only cardboard, plastic, an old air hockey table, half collapsed. I did a sweep anyway.
Nothing. No Maddie. No one at all.
Wrecker’s voice was in my head now, not the phone: Get out. Get out.
I bolted back down the corridor, banged my hip on the doorframe, and fumbled the phone. My lungs burned. It felt like gravity had tripled.
Somewhere in my mind, I could hear a clock ticking. Then I realized it was my heart, racing so hard it blurred the rest of the world.
I reached the foot of the stairs. “Eli!” I yelled. “I’m coming up. You better not—” I stopped. I didn’t know why. Maybe the floor shifted. Maybe the air pressure changed.
I pressed the phone to my mouth, teeth clicking on the plastic. “Hey. If I don’t make it, I need you to know something.”
