“I’ll—I'll get it, I’ll get it—” His voice cracks as he runs, bare feet slapping against the hardwood. He’s still wiping at his face as he goes, breath hitching with every step.
Grason rises slowly from where he’d been kneeling, towering over Cass’s unconscious form. His hands hover uselessly at his sides before he fists them to keep from shaking.
We both watch Pace work, checking Cass’s pulse, blood pressure, steady clinical movements, but Grason’s expression is pure shock.
His usually curly hair is a wreck, flattened on one side, frizzy on the other. Like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes are dark, heavy with the kind of worry that’s been etched into all of us these last few weeks.
None of us have slept. Not really.
Not with Cass sliding downhill like this.
Beck comes sprinting back into the dining room, clutching one of the big navy pillows from the couch to his chest. He practically skids as he drops to his knees beside Grason.
“Here—here, I’ve got it,” he says, voice shaking.
Grason nods once, then bends and slips his arms beneath Cass’s legs. Even unconscious, Cassian tenses on instinct before going limp again. Grason lifts carefully. Gentle and controlled, like he’s holding something breakable.
“Okay,” Grason murmurs. “Put it there.”
Beck slides the pillow into place with trembling hands. His breath hitches every time his fingers brush Cass’s skin, like the contact burns. When the pillow is positioned,Grason lowers Cass’s legs onto it with slow, deliberate precision. The way you’d set down a weapon you respect.
Beck wipes at his face again, though the tears keep coming.
Pace finally looks up. “Thank you, Beck.” Our sweet beta reacts like someone handed him a lifeline.
Beck gives a shaky smile, nods once, then crosses his arms tight over his chest. Like he’s trying to hold himself together from the outside.
Pace checks Cass’s pulse one more time, then he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and unlocks it with quick movements.
I see the numbers before he finishes punching them in.
911.
“Wait.” My voice cuts sharper than I intend.
Pace shoots me an annoyed look, his thumb hovering over the screen. “Warren, his blood pressure’s bottoming out. This infection is wreaking havoc in his body. He needs to be in a hospital?—”
I lunge forward, grabbing the front of the doctor’s shirt and yanking him toward me, my knuckles white. Panic, sharp and suffocating, claws at my throat. “No hospitals,” I snarl, my face inches from his. “You will figure out how to fucking fix him. Right here. Right now.”
Pace’s eyes go wide with shock, his phone clattering to the floor. “Warren, what the hell?—”
“I don’t care what you have to do,” I spit, shaking him slightly. “You bring your whole goddamn clinic here if you have to. You are not taking him anywhere. Do you understand me?” I shove him back, and he stumbles, catching himself on the edge of the table.
Grason is immediately at my side, his hand clamping down on my shoulder, a silent warning to get a grip.
Beck lets out a choked sob, his eyes wide with terror as he stares between me and the doctor.
Pace stares up at me, breathing hard, the fury in his eyes now mixed with a sliver of fear. He knows this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a command.
“His condition can’t get out,” I grit out. “No one can know.” I lower my voice further. “You know what he is. You know what he means to certain people. If word spreads that Cassian Vexler is laid out and barely conscious—” My voice cuts out, raw emotion seeping in.
Pace takes a slow breath, then whispers, “Do you really think he’d rather die than?—”
“Yes,” I cut him off. “There are people who would come for him, for us, if they smelled blood in the water. Right now, everyone thinks he was shot, survived, and is a more vicious alpha for it. We can’t change that narrative. No matter what.” My body jerks forward, but Grason grips my shoulder, holding me in place. “Fix him,” I snarl at Pace.
Pace stares up at me, his mouth set into a tight line. “Okay,” he finally mutters before dragging a hand down his face. “Okay.” He straightens, slipping back into doctor mode. “Is there a guest room down here? Somewhere he won’t be tempted to take the damn stairs?”
I nod. “Down the hall. There’s one next to his office.”
