I say nothing as they clean me up. I perch on the bed, feeling heavy and exhausted with life because I’m in here again, like it’s my second home.
32
CALEB
Jaxon’s face is nearly red when he turns back to face me. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, eyes hardening. “Your pack shouldn’t have to witness that.”
I shake my head. “It happens.”
My fingers itch, and I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder at Evan as he walks towards the infirmary. Blood drips down his pale skin, and those blue eyes look lifeless.
For a few moments, I witnessed the fight, and I realised he still can’t fight for shit. No skill, no technique, no form—it’s all arms and legs with no conviction. But I have to admit, he put up a good fight despite all of that.
He didn’t sit back and take it; he took control. And as for Sam. I’d like five minutes with the kid. Who the fuck does he think he is?
“Can I do something?”
Jaxon looks at me. “No, I don’t want to waste any more of your time on my mess of a pack.”
I shrug. “We’re working on becoming one as a district, right? We can carry on training. It doesn’t have to end because of Sam.”
“Yeah,” he rasps. “You’re right.”
We attempt to pick up the morale and get back to sparring, but my mind doesn’t drift from Evan. I pray he’s actually gone to the infirmary and not shut himself in his room. I have no idea what Sam was saying to him, what resulted in the fight, but I’m going to find out and make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on him again.
Or I’ll be the last face he sees.
Jaxon dismisses his pack but encourages my pack to carry on, as they still have lots of unspent energy. I hand over to Felix before heading over to Jaxon’s pack house.
No one bats an eye at my sudden appearance. We’ve been spending a lot of time around each other over the past few months. It wouldn’t be unusual to be at their house.
I follow my instincts down to the infirmary, where I spot Evan sitting on the edge of one of the beds. My chest relaxes, and I let out a soft breath of relief to find him patched up and being looked after.
“How are you holding up?” I call out.
Evan glances at me, and I internally wince at the damage to his face. It churns my stomach, knowing his wolf doesn’t heal like the rest of us, but I know if he works on accepting himself, it might come back.
“So-so,” he sighs.
“What happened?” I ask as I perch on the opposite bed.
There’s nothing I want more than to cuddle him like the possessive mate I’ve suddenly become, but I’m not in the comfort of my own home or privacy. Anyone could walk in, and I’m not risking anything.
“Sam running his mouth as usual.”
I frown and fold my arms over my chest to stop myself from reaching for him. “Does he bother you a lot?”
Evan avoids my eyes. “Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m easy to bully, I guess. He’s done it since I moved here.”
I’ve changed my mind. I wouldn’t need five minutes with him; I’d need three seconds to knock the fucker out.
“You stood up for yourself,” I comment.
Evan chews on the inside of his cheek. “Only because I’m sick of being walked all over,” he murmurs, sadly. “Still can’t fight, though.”
