Pace gestures. “Good. Grason?” The older beta looks down at Cass’s limp body. “I’m not sure how we’ll move him. Maybe we can—” Before he can finish his sentence, Grason drops into a crouch beside Cass. He slides one arm under the pack alpha’s back, the other beneath his knees, bracing carefully around the swollen joint.
Even unconscious, Cass is a lot of alpha. He’s six-foot-two with heavy muscle. The kind of build that makes furniture creak if he isn’t careful.
But Grason lifts him anyway.
There’s a sharp clench in his jaw, a flash of strain in his neck, but otherwise he shows nothing. No wobble. No hesitation. Raw strength and precision.
Beck watches with his hands balled at his chest, breath stuttering again. I step closer to steady him if he needs it.
Pace grabs his medical bag. “Careful,” he instructs, though Grason is already moving like each step is measured in inches. “If he stirs, stop immediately.”
Cass doesn’t move.
His head lolls against Grason’s shoulder, limp and wrong in a way that tightens something painful in my chest.
We all walk with Grason, like a silent escort, as he carries Cass toward the guest room. The house feels too still.
Too quiet.
Like it’s holding its breath with us.
We all watch as Grason sets Cass down in the brightly lit guest room. Everything is a soft yellow and blue. Powder blue walls, yellow curtains, and thick bedding dotted with tiny yellow daisies. It’s a striking contrast to the gloom hanging over our heads.
Pace moves around the bed in efficient circles, checking vitals again, adjusting the angle of Cass’s leg, listening to his heart with the cold bell of his stethoscope. His movements are steady, clinical, but his mouth is tight with worry.
The doctor drains more pus from Cass’s joint, then he sets up an IV stand from his kit. It’s a portable one he brings for emergencies. “Just to give him some fluids,” he murmurs, threading the line into Cass’s arm with practiced ease.
The bag drips slowly, steadying into a rhythm.
Grason stands at the foot of the bed like a sentry, armscrossed, jaw tight. I hover in the doorway, unable to move closer, unable to step away.
Beck…breaks.
He crawls onto the mattress beside Cass, careful not to jostle him. Then he curls up against the pack alpha’s side. He presses his face into Cass’s shoulder, shaking silently as he cries.
Pace finishes packing his things, shoving supplies back into his bag with clipped precision, then he slings it over his shoulder. Grason and I follow him into the hallway, leaving Beck curled against Cass like a lifeline he refuses to surrender.
“Look.” Pace stops just outside the doorway. He exhales, long and heavy. “I respect what Cassian wants,” he says, tone clipped but sincere. “I do. But he needs to be in a hospital.”
“No,” I say simply. Final.
Pace nods like he expected nothing else. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a bright pink business card. Neon, glossy, unmistakable even in the dim hallway light.
“I don’t normally share this kind of information,” he says, holding the card out between two fingers. “But if you really want to help your pack alpha…” He takes a steadying breath. “You may want to consider getting an omega. Their pheromones heal alphas like nothing that can be crafted in a lab.”
Grason lets out a humorless laugh. It’s sharp, bitter, and exhausted. “Right,” he mutters. “I’ll just run down to the store and pick one up.”
But I don’t have it in me to laugh. “Alphas like us don’t get to claim omegas from academies. The governance board would never allow it.”
Pace steps closer and presses the pink card into my palm. “The governance board,” he whispers, “doesn’t need to know everything.” He gives us both one last frustrated look. “I’ll come back in the morning to drain it again and replace his IV. Hopefully, Cass will be awake by then, but if he isn’t…” He lets out a heavy sigh, then he turns and walks down the hall toward the living room.
The front door clicks shut a moment later, leaving a swollen quiet in his wake.
I look down at the card in my hand.
Shock lights me up as I flip the card over. The other side has a single QR code sitting innocently in the center with the words “Find your omega today” beneath it.
Holy fuck.
