“Anything. I don't care. Tell me about Daniel. Tell me why you'd throw yourself in front of a wolf for someone who's been nothing but an asshole to you.”
“You're pack. Pack protects pack. Isn't that what Daniel says?”
Alaric was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. Thick.
“Yeah,” he said. “That's what he says.”
So I kept talking. About Anna. About the first time I saw her, laughing in a crowded room, and knew with absolute certainty that I would love her until I died. About Nate as a baby, how he never cried, just watched the world with those serious eyes like he was cataloging everything for later use. About Daniel, the way he made me feel safe for the first time since Anna's death, the way his hands felt on my skin, the way I wanted things with him I hadn't let myself want in years.
Alaric listened. Kept running. Kept his arms locked around me like he could hold me in the world through sheer stubborn refusal to let go.
“You really love him,” he said finally. “Daniel. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Yeah. I really do.”
“Then don't die.” His arms tightened. “Because watching him grieve another person he loves would kill him. And after what you just did for me...” His voice broke completely. “I'm not letting that happen. Not on my watch.”
The garage appeared through the trees. Gideon's place, with its smell of motor oil and hidden magic and the faint hum of wards that still held strong.
Alaric kicked the door open.
“Gideon! GIDEON!”
Gideon was there before the echoes died. Moving with speed that shouldn't have been possible for someone his age, taking one look at me and going pale.
“What happened?”
“Corrupted rogues.” Alaric laid me on the cot in the back room, and his hands were shaking so badly he could barely let go. “He fought them off. Silver-green light, poured out of him like moonlight. But the wounds are tainted. I can smell it. Gideon, I can smell the corruption in his blood.”
Gideon's hands pressed against my leg. Golden light flared, and pain ripped through me like someone had poured acid into the wound.
I screamed.
“Hold him down,” Gideon said. “This is going to get worse before it gets better.”
Alaric's weight settled across my chest. His hands gripped my shoulders. And somewhere in the haze of agony and fear and fading consciousness, I heard him say something that cracked my heart wide open.
“I've got you, Harrington. I've got you. You're pack now, whether you wanted it or not. And pack doesn't let pack die.”
Time became meaningless.
Pain and light and voices that swam in and out of comprehension. Gideon working steadily, golden power flowing from his hands, burning corruption back every time it tried to advance. The garage lights flickered. Burst. Left us in darkness broken only by moonlight that shouldn't have been visible through the afternoon clouds.
“The corruption's affecting reality,” Gideon said from somewhere far away. “It's not just in his body anymore. It's bleeding into the space around him.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means his awakening was violent. Too much power, too fast, with no training to channel it.” Gideon's voice went grim. “The moonlight saved him, but it also marked him. He's not just human anymore, Alaric. He's something else now. Something the corruption wants.”
“Can you stop it?”
“I can slow it down. But to stop it completely, I need an Alpha. Daniel's the only one who can burn this out of him without killing him in the process.”
Alaric's hand found mine. Rough. Calloused. Holding on like he could anchor me to the world through sheer force of will.
“Hey. Harrington. Michael. Stay with me.”
“Trying.” The word came out slurred. Wet. “Everything's... gray.”
