My boots slide on frost-slick stones as I descend the steep gradient. Ben’s body throws off my center of gravity, forcing me to dig my heels in harder. The muscles in my thighs and shoulders burn, but I don’t slow down.
“Next time you decide to collapse,” I grunt, hauling him over a fallen log, “do it closer to the fucking compound.”
I pause at the creek crossing, ears straining for any sound beyond rushing water. The territory feels wrong—too quiet, like everything living is holding its breath. No birds, no small animals. Even the wind seems to have died.
My eyes scan the tree line automatically. No movement. No scent markers except our own pack’s fading patrols.
I press two fingers against Ben’s neck again. His pulse thuds rapidly, his skin feels too hot under my fingertips.
If Ben’s down, and Dane couldn’t respond ...
The thought of Lyanna in danger makes my chest constrict. I force the fear down and lock it away.
I cross the creek, water soaking my boots, and push toward the compound.
The forest thins as I approach the final ridge before the compound, Ben’s weight seems to double as I climb, my muscles screaming in protest.
I crest the hill with Ben’s unconscious body still over my shoulder, and the scene below turns my blood to ice.
The training yard is a chaotic tableau of fallen pack members. Bodies are scattered across the dirt like discarded dolls. That same copper scent hits me again, stronger now. But there’s no blood anywhere, no visible wounds.
Amara and Gabriel Bronson lie crumpled near the weapons rack, hands still intertwined. Not ten feet away, Mariel McBride is sprawled beside her mate, Connor, both unconscious but breathing. Cassie and Kieran are down near the edge of the yard. The same couples Ben and I had been discussing earlier. I can see from here that all of them are radiating the same unnatural heat I feel from Ben.
“We need to get them inside now!” Kari shouts from across the yard. Her voice cuts through the confusion, anger tightening her features as she hefts an unconscious wolf onto a makeshift stretcher. “This isn’t random. It’s spreading fast.”
Derek moves with uncharacteristic efficiency, coordinating a group of still-standing pack members. No smart-ass remarks, no challenging glances. Just pure focus as he points toward the fallen.
“Get them to the main hall. Triage by body temperature. Those burning hottest go first.”
I scan the yard for any sign of Lyanna. My chest tightens when I don’t immediately see her.
Rafe emerges from behind the Lodge, carrying two unconscious wolves effortlessly. His face is locked in a fierce scowl, eyes constantly sweeping the perimeter like he’s hunting for an invisible enemy.
Ansel follows silently behind him, communicating only through sharp hand gestures as he directs others where to go. His nostrils flare repeatedly, testing the air for threats.
In the distance, I spot Harper kneeling beside a fallen wolf, checking vital signs with practiced efficiency. She glances up, catches my eye for a heartbeat, then returns to her work with renewed urgency.
“Callum!” Derek shouts when he sees me carrying Ben. “Get him to medical. Dane and Nova are in there too, and they are not standing,” he adds grimly.
“Got it.” I adjust Ben’s weight on my shoulder and push toward the main hall, stepping over scattered training gear.
My wolf paces beneath my skin, frantic with the need to protect, to fix, to fight—but there’s nothing to fight. Just pack members dropping without warning, burning with fever.
The Lodge has transformed into a desperate medical center. Cots line the walls in neat rows, each holding an unconscious pack member radiating unnatural heat. The copper scent is overwhelming here, coating the back of my throat with each breath.
There—Lyanna. She moves with focused intensity between patients, honey blonde hair pulled back in a practical braid, escaped strands framing her face.
My shoulders drop a fraction. The constant scan of the room—Loss? Danger? Threat?—narrows to her. Just her. Still standing. Still working. The breath I didn’t know I’d been holding finally releases.
I stay by the door. Old habit—keep distance, keep control.
My eyes sweep the room quickly, cataloguing the situation. Dane lies motionless on a cot near the far wall, his normally commanding presence reduced to stillness. Nova is beside him. Seeing our Alpha down hits harder than I expected; if whatever this is can take down Dane, none of us are safe.
“Put him here,” Lyanna instructs, gesturing to an empty cot beside her without looking up.
I lower Ben carefully onto the cot, his body still radiating heat. “He just dropped. No warning. What the fuck is happening?”
“I don’t know yet.” Lyanna’s voice is calm but tense, her forest green eyes focused as she presses her fingers to Ben’s temples. “Everyone’s presenting the same way—sudden collapse, extreme fever, unresponsive but stable.”
