Page 105 of Chaos At Second Sight

Zeus hissed and smacked Logan’s nose with his fluffy tail. He sneezed.

“He hates you!” Lachlan laughed, collapsing into the armchair. “Good boy!”

Zeus trotted over and licked Lachlan’s hand.

I glared at him with slight worry, but Logan only chuckled. “Because he senses the danger. Like you, Islander.”

My brother scowled and Zeus somehow mirrored his expression. Logan ignored him. Though Lachlan never stopped professing his dislike for Logan, he showed no intention of leaving. He looked content here with us, too.

“I like him,” Dad admitted at last. “Even if his father is carrion. Always has been and always will be. Though the boy needs to learn how to live with his lycan.”

“Thanks, Dad. We want to visit Archie and Uncle Mirko this summer. Chie thinks they can help Logan.”

“Now that’s a good idea.” He nodded. “I’ll call Alpha Mirko. Make sure they put you through proper training while you’re there. You’ve lost muscle.”

I scoffed, though he wasn’t wrong.

Dad had asked me to meet him in his office, leaving Logan and Lachlan alone in the movie room. As I had walked away, I could hear them arguing over what to watch next. Apparently they were annoyed they liked the same films.

My smile faded at the pain on my father’s face. Used tissues littered his big desk. “Dad?”

“I just got off the phone with Doctor James.”

My hand found my chest. Please don’t… A sob clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it down. “What happened?”

Dad covered his face, his shoulders shaking.

Seeing the tubes on Ian’s face was one thing. Seeing my father—the sturdy Alpha, the ferocious pack leader—crumbling like an old ruin was another.

He dragged a trembling hand down his face. “They need to operate. But his heart might⁠—”

“Not survive it.”

“There’s an infection in the⁠—”

“Appendix.”

“They don’t know which surgery to perform first.”

I felt dizzy—my brain’s latest reaction when acceptance was just too much.

We argued, pondering options, crying a little, until my father went to bed with bloodshot eyes and a hunched back.

Moments like this made me hate leaving home to study. I should’ve been here to hold Ian’s hand and hug my parents whenever the doctor called with bad news. Because when it came to Ian…it was always bad news.

Closing Dad’s office door, I spun on my heels and bolted outside.

Tree after tree, mile after mile, I still didn’t feel that the space between the bad news and me was far enough.

My lungs burned, my legs screamed, but I ran. And ran some more. Sweat dripped down my face, mixing with dirt and creating muddy streaks.

A root stuck up out of the ground but I let it trip me on purpose and I hit the earth hard. The pain was good, something I wanted. A new pain. Face pressed into the damp soil, my fingers clawed at the ground until dirt jammed under my nails.

A sob tore through me, then another, and soon I couldn’t breathe. I could still taste the nausea in my throat from my dad’s words…

Two hands collected me and I didn’t fight them. A warm chest pressed against my cheek, my nails digging into hard skin. He said nothing. Never told me everything would be okay because he had stopped lying to me. I appreciated that—I would’ve resented him if he tried to comfort me with words that would change nothing. Because nothing would change. Ian was still dying.

When our eyes met and he just smiled at me, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.