Chapter 20
Drake
The bathroom floor is cold against my cheek.
I've been lying here long enough that the tile has warmed under my skin. Minutes. Hours. I don't know anymore. Time doesn't work right when your body is eating itself from the inside out.
The toilet is right there, six inches from my face. There's nothing left in my stomach to throw up but my body keeps trying anyway. Dry heaves that rip through my abdomen and leave me gasping.
Bond-break sickness.
I'm a nurse. I've treated it in the ER before once or twice. Packs rarely break like this. It's a fever that spikes without warning, chills that make your teeth chatter hard enough to crack, nausea that won't quit. The body rejecting what the mind decided.
It doesn't always happen. Usually only when the break isn't clean. It happens sometimes if your pack lead fights it, tries to hold on, forces the bond to tear instead of sever.
Ragon fought it.
Of course he did.
My stomach convulses again. Nothing comes up except bile that burns my throat. I spit it into the toilet and let my head drop back to the tile.
I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. Days, weeks? Time blurs together between the pain and sickness. I can’t bring myself to care. I deserve this.
All I can think about is Vee.
Finding her and making sure she's okay. Telling her I'm sorry even if she never forgives me. Even if she spits in my face and tells me to rot.
I've been calling everyone who might be connected to Alex or his pack. Registry contacts who might know Finn. Security consultants who might know Alex's work. Anyone who might have a thread I can pull.
No one will tell me anything.
Either they don't know or they're protecting her.
I hope it's the second one.
God, I hope it's the second one.
My phone buzzes somewhere across the room. The sound echoes off the tile, sharp and insistent.
I watch it light up by the door where I dropped it. When did I drop it there? I can't remember. Don’t care enough to try.
It keeps ringing.
I close my eyes. Maybe if I ignore it, whoever it is will give up.
The ringing stops.
Starts again.
Over and over. Someone really wants to talk to me.
Maybe it's about Vee.
I groan and try to push myself up. My arms shake and give out halfway. I hit the floor again, cheek smacking tile hard enough to send pain shooting through my face.
The phone keeps ringing.
Fine.
