I’ve failed. I’ve failed everyone.
“Alpha,” a rough voice says.
I look up to see Jesse standing in my path. His eyes are ringed with dark circles, and his skin looks dull, with a yellow sheen.
“Janice is dead,” he croaks. “Would you like to tell me again how your witch wife saved her?”
“Jesse,” I say, trying to sound comforting. “It isn’t Trina’s fault—”
“The hell it isn’t,” he rasps, his breath becoming short. “Since she arrived, things have gone from bad to worse, and now it’s critical. How long are you going to let this go on?”
We stare at each other, and I know that if we weren’t sick, he’d call the alpha’s challenge on me, and I wouldn’t blame him one bit.
Whatever I personally believe, they have the right to their opinions and to challenge me. I can’t keep pretending Trina isn’t part of this, because she is—it’s the whole reason I married her!
Before I can wallow in that misery, Jesse looks up, a flash of anger bringing him back from the brink of exhaustion.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” he growls.
I follow his gaze and see Trina entering the hall. Even after what I just heard, all I feel is relief.
After what we’ve shared, I can’t possibly believe she’s responsible for this.
I make my way towards her, watching her stop by each bed, putting her hand on people’s foreheads and trying to revive them the same way she did with Janice. The more she tries, themore upset she gets, and when I reach her, I quickly rush her outside.
“Trina, you shouldn’t be here,” I say. “The pack think you’re responsible for this.”
Tears rush down her cheeks, and her eyes turn wide and frightened. She grabs my hands in a death grip, her face paling until she looks almost as bad as the cursed people.
Can she get sick, too? How does this thing even work?
“Owen, I think I am responsible,” she cries softly. “I did this.”
“What?” I ask, my throat so tight I can barely speak. “What are you talking about?”
“I did a spell last night,” she chokes out. “While you were asleep. It was supposed to bind us together and cure the curse, but something went wrong.”
I take a quick step back, yanking my hands away from her.
“You did magic on me… while I was asleep?” I growl.
“Yes,” she cries. “I’m so sorry, I thought it would help.”
“Does it look like it helped?” I yell. “Do you see what’s happening in there?”
“Yes,” she sobs. “I went over the spell again this morning. There was black magic in it, and I didn’t realize it at the time. I can fix this, I promise. You just have to let me—”
“No!” I almost scream. “No more magic! For fuck’s sake, look at what you’ve done.”
“I healed someone with my magic before,” she says softly. “I can do it again. Just let me try.”
“You healed no one,” I say quietly. “Janice is dead. What you did was worse than nothing.”
“Please,” she begs, reaching out for me. “I know what to do now. Just let me—”
“No,” I reply, my voice still quiet but dripping with menace. “You are not to do any magic, ever again. Do you understand me? You’ve done enough damage. I’m too tired and sick to deal with this now—especially when I’m still counting the dead. Go home, and I’ll speak to you later.”
“Owen, please,” she cries, and I’m almost moved by her big, beautiful eyes and tear-streaked face.
