He was a fortress of a man. My bear was strong and stubborn, but he was human too. Mortal. Breakable. And Avery had broken him to make a point.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, brushing a blood-matted curl from his forehead. “I’m so damn sorry.”
His lips twitched, just barely. “Don’t… cry,” he rasped, voice rough and barely more than breath.
“I’m not crying,” I lied, the words thick in my throat, barely held together by sheer will.
But the tears betrayed me anyway. They tracked down my cheek, hot and relentless, carving lines through the grime and dried blood.
I could taste salt on my lips, feel the tight ache in my chest every time I tried to hold the next sob back. How could he be worried about me? Me?
He was the one who had nearly bled out in my arms, the one whose blood still stained my skin.
His lashes fluttered against bruised skin, his breathing shallow, chest rising and falling like it hurt with every inhale. And yet… he was worried about me.
That cracked something in me wide open.
“You’re unbelievable,” I whispered, brushing my fingers lightly through his hair, careful not to disturb the cut along his temple. “You’re half-dead, and you're telling me not to cry?”
His eyes fluttered open, just a sliver. But it was enough. Enough for me to see the flicker of emotion there. The pain. The worry. The stubborn affection that refused to fade, even now.
He made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a groan. Maybe both.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, and then Callum was there, crouching beside me, his face tight with fury and worry.
Beau followed right behind him, followed by Cass, already unzipping a first aid kit.
“Crap,” Beau breathed when he saw Rafael’s injuries.
“He needs a healer. He needs someone now,” I said, trying not to sound hysterical. “They stabbed him. With something. Some kind of stun weapon too.”
“We’ve got him,” Callum said, his voice steady. “You did good, James. You kept him awake.”
I wanted to scream I didn’t do good, I failed, but I swallowed it. I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.
They worked quickly. Cass pressed gauze against the wound while Callum radioed for transport, his voice clipped and lethal.
Rafael groaned once when they shifted him onto a stretcher, but he didn’t fully wake. I didn’t let go of his hand until the last possible second.
Chapter 17
James/ Rafael
JAMES
Several hours later, I sat beside the bed in Beau’s spare room, the blanket on Rafael’s chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.
My hands were scrubbed raw, skin pink and raw from washing again and again, like I could erase the blood. His blood.
But I couldn’t get the scent out of my nose, couldn’t scrub away the memory of his body slumping into mine, heavy and limp and far too still.
Beau and Cass had patched him up the best they could. The wolves had brought salves and poultices, whispered instructions, quiet reassurances that weren’t meant to soothe me but him.
They’d all worked together without a word of complaint, driven by something unspoken. Protectiveness, maybe. Shock.
Callum’s jaw had been clenched tight the whole time. Beau’s hands never stopped moving. And I’d just sat there, useless, watching them all try to keep him breathing.
Now the worst of it had passed. Rafael was stable. Alive. I hadn’t moved from his side.
