“I have to go.”
“Daniel—” Elena started.
“Michael is dying.” The words came out harsh. Raw. “The man I love is dying because corrupted wolves attacked him in my territory, and I wasn't there to protect him. So whatever else you have to say, whatever accusations you want to make about Evernight and hundred-year revenge and humans who shouldn't be entangled with wolves, it can wait.”
“And the Council?” Marcus asked quietly. “The territories that need leadership? The wolves who are looking to you for guidance?”
“Will still be here when I get back.” I met his eyes, let him see the Alpha who'd held this position for two decades. Who'd made hard choices and carried impossible weights and never once broken under the pressure. “But if Michael dies while I'm sitting here playing politics, then I'm not the Alpha you need anyway.”
I left before they could respond.
Took the stairs down three at a time, hit the parking area at a run, and threw myself into the truck with hands that shook so badly I could barely find the ignition.
Hold on,I thought, pushing the thought through space and time like it could somehow reach him.Hold on, Michael. I'm coming.
The road stretched ahead, empty and endless, and I drove toward the only thing that mattered.
Toward home.
Toward him.
23
BLOOD REMEMBERS WHAT WE FORGET
DANIEL
Idrove like death itself was chasing me, like the hounds of hell were snapping at my bumper, like every second that passed was a second Michael might not have. Took corners at speeds that should have killed me. Blew through stop signs and red lights and small towns that blurred past in smears of color I didn't bother to register.
My phone sat in the passenger seat, and every twenty minutes I called Gideon. Every twenty minutes I heard the same thing:He's still alive. Hurry.
Still alive. Not stable. Not improving. Still alive, like that was the best anyone could promise.
The speedometer hit ninety on the mountain roads. Hit a hundred on the straightaways. My wolf howled under my skin, clawing at my control, demanding I shift and run because surely four legs could cover ground faster than four wheels.
I didn't stop for gas. Didn't stop for anything. Just drove with white-knuckled hands and a prayer I didn't know I remembered lodged in my throat.
Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.
The Hollow Pines town limits appeared like salvation, and I pushed the truck harder. Past Main Street. Past the hardware store and Martha's diner and all the normal places that belonged to a normal life I didn't have anymore. Toward Gideon's garage. Toward Michael.
Toward whatever was left of him.
I barely got the truck in park before I was out and running.
The garage smelledlike blood and rot and ozone-sharp magic pushed past its limits.
I stood in the doorway breathing hard from the sprint across the parking lot, from four hours of driving like a madman, from the terror that had lived in my chest since Gideon's call. The certainty that I was going to be too late. Again. Always too fucking late when it mattered.
But Michael was alive.
He lay on Gideon's work cot looking like death had tried to take him and he'd fought it to a draw. Bandages soaked red. Skin gray with blood loss and shock. Alaric sat beside him, holding his hand, looking like he hadn't moved in hours. His own wounds were hastily bandaged, blood seeping through in places he'd clearly ignored in favor of watching over Michael.
But Michael's eyes were open. Focused. And when they found me, something in his expression cracked. Relief and fear and desperate gratitude all tangled together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
“Daniel.” My name on his lips, barely a whisper. “You came back.”
“Of course I came back.” I crossed the room in three strides, pushed past Alaric, hands finding Michael's face before I could stop myself. His skin was cold. Clammy. Wrong in ways that made my wolf snarl with protective fury. “I will always come back.”
