“What the fuck!” Cass lets out a low, primal growl. It echoes off the dining room walls like a threat he doesn’t have the strength to follow through on.
Beck flinches hard, shoulders jumping. Grason’s jaw ticks once, and my pulse spikes. The urge to rush in there and save my packmate from his pain is intense, but there’s nothing I can do.
Dr. Pace startles—a blink, a stutter in his posture—but he reins himself in fast. Professional mask back in place. He pulls the needle out, holding up one hand, palm open, like he’s soothing a cornered animal.
“Easy,” Pace murmurs. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
Cass bares his teeth anyway. “You gave me the fucking antibiotic. What else do you need to do?”
Pace exhales through his nose. “I’m sorry, but your knee looks worse today, and your fever is very concerning.”
The air tightens. Beck’s breath catches, making a thin sound. Grason straightens enough to shift his weight, bracing.
Thankfully, Pace doesn’t sugarcoat it. “There’s pus inside the joint now. Not just surface swelling. The infection’s deeper than I hoped.”
Cass goes still. He looks like a predator, freezing before doing something reckless.
My heart slams against my chest. Because I know that stillness. I know exactly what follows it if someone doesn’t intervene, but I can’t move. I feel so fucking helpless and stupid right now, watching my pack alpha squirm in so much pain.
“How the fuck is it worse?” Cass grits out. “Why isn’t the medicine working?”
Pace levels him with a look that would be patronizing if it weren’t so damn calm. “Well, for starters, you are supposed to be onbed rest, Cassian,” he says, his patience completely gone. “You shouldn’t be downstairs, sitting at the damn dining room table like you’re hosting brunch.” He gestures toward Cass’s knee. “Walking on it, sitting for long stretches, putting weight where you shouldn’t, aggravates the infection and slows the antibiotics.”
Cass’s nostrils flare, the beginnings of another growl rolling in his chest, but this time Pace doesn’t back down.
“Growl all you want.” Pace snaps the cap back onto the used needle and disposes of it with forceful, irritated movements—tossing it into his sharps container with aclickthat echoes louder than it should. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t lose that leg after the damage you took. But if you keep this up, Cassian,” he jabs a finger toward the swollen knee, “you’ll definitely lose it.”
Cass goes tight, shoulders snapping taut, animalistic tension rolling off him.
And then hemoves, pushing off the chair like he’s about to lunge at Pace, fury and fever overriding common sense.
But the second he’s fully upright, the color just drains from his face.
Pace rears back a step, eyes widening, one hand lifting instinctively like he’s ready to ward off a blow. “Wait—don’t?—”
The pack alpha goes completely white. His eyes flutter once like he’s confused, and then his knees buckle. His body goes slack as his upper body pitches forward.
Grason flies, launching himself off the wall. He catches Cass under the arms before he can hit the floor, haulingthe unconscious alpha against his chest. The impact still jars them both, and Cass’s head lolls, dead weight.
Pace swears under his breath, his chest rising and falling fast.
“Cassian—Cass, hey—” Grason’s voice is rough, too loud in the sudden panic.
Beck makes a sound I’ve never heard from him. It’s a broken, high-pitched keening as he scrambles forward, his hands fluttering uselessly before he grabs Cass’s limp wrist. “Is he breathing? Oh god, is he—Dr. Pace,do something!”
Tears streak his face, falling fast. He looks small. Shaking. His whole body vibrating with terror. The moment his knees wobble, I cross the room and pull him into my chest, arms wrapping around him before he can topple over too.
My frightened mate clutches me instantly. He gathers fistfuls of my shirt, fingers shaking so hard it feels like they might break. His whole body trembles against mine, small and wrecked and terrified.
“I—Warren, he—he just—” Beck tries to speak, but the words dissolve into a strangled sob.
I don’t know what to say. My mind is white noise, shock buzzing under my skin.
All I can do is stare at Cass’s limp body and suck in his sharp scent. The usual thread of smoked amber and soft leather is dull and acidic at the same time, burning the back of my throat.
“Grason,” Pace says, snapping back into professional mode, like a switch has been thrown. “Ease him down. Flat on his back,” he orders, reaching for his medical bag. His voice is steady now, clipped and controlled. He glances up at me without missing a beat. “Warren, I need a pillow or something to elevate his legs.”
Beck jerks at Pace’s words like someone pulled a string.He releases me abruptly, stumbling back a step before spinning toward the living room.
