Chapter 111-1
Troy
“You should rest.”
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I glanced down at the woman in the wheelchair. “You’re one to talk. You look like hell.”
Eloise wrinkled her nose. “There was a time we both looked like hell, and this is not that time.”
It was true. We were both running around like wolves on crack and steroids, which was uncomfortably close to the truth. The only difference was that I’d been shot protecting Kiana, and
she’d willingly taken the drug.
As I stared down at her, I had to remember that it was not her fault. She’d done it to save her sister, and in the end, thanks to Saul, she had. Both she and her sister were on the mend.
I stared at the closed door. On the other side was a guest room in London’s house where Kiana’s unconscious body lay. After a week of staring at her in the hospital bed, I’d had enough. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t injured. There was no need for her to be in the hospital except that Saul was worried she’d suddenly injure herself.
In the end he caved, and we moved her. At the moment he, Janelle, and Ava were in the room working on her, and I was in the hall because apparently my stress and anxiety were getting in the
way.
“I did this to her,” I told London’s healer. “I pushed her into breaking, and now she’s trapped in her mind, and I can’t reach her. I can’t communicate with her. I used to be able to reach her in dreams, but now? The bond is there, but it’s like there’s no one on the other side.”
“From what I’ve heard, this was done to her a long time ago. You couldn’t stop it then, but you could at least take a shower now. That way if the witches can wake her up, you won’t horrify her with your smell. Because, Alpha Troy, you reek.”
She rolled away as I glared, lifting my shirt to take a sniff. Inside me, even my own wolf recoiled, and I grimaced. So maybe a shower was in order. Janelle has said the ritual could take up to an hour, and they’d only started a few minutes ago. Saul was watching over her during the ritual, so I stole into his room to use his shower. As soon as the hot water ran over me, I sagged against the
wall.
I was losing her.
My mate. We’d been through so Goddamn much, and I’d only recently done the smart thing and told her that I loved her. Now I was losing her, and there was nothing I could do. No rescue
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Chapter 111-1
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missions to plan. No need to put extra guards around her or call and check in on her. Nothing to do but watch her mind slowly eat away at her.
The grief hit me hard, and it came out in a rage. Knowing that everyone could hear me and not caring, I howled. The mournful sound bounced off the walls and came back to punch me in the
gut. It churned into violence, and I slammed my fists into the wall over and over again until blood
ran down my knuckles and a tile flew into the air.
The bathroom door flew open. “Troy, for fuck’s sake, stop!” The curtain opened, and Willa glared at
- Behind her, Finn stood back and watched me silently.
“Get out,” I ordered. “Now.”
Willa’s body turned, but Finn blocked her path. He still wasn’t bound to me and could ignore my command. “Tell him what he’s doing,” Finn said in a quiet voice. “Tell him what you’re feeling.”
“Shit.” She turned back around. “Your grief is pulling on the pack bonds. I was in the middle of talking to Cruz when I hit my knees. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?”
“I don’t care,” I hissed.
“But it’s pulling on Kiana’s pack bond too.”
Fuck. I squeezed my eyes tight and inhaled sharply. Kiana’s pack bond. It was there, just like all the others, but it was never prominent. She didn’t use it. She’d told me that she didn’t feel it, but when I was drugged and in a coma, the pack used her to feed me. To balance the pack. They could feel
her now.
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