Chapter 76

DEREK

It all happened too fast.

Flashes.

A shout behind us—rough and unexpected. Another rogue, charging out of the jungle like a spark dropped in a dry forest.

Aiden jerked.

The rogue holding him shouted something I didn’t hear—

Then Elena screamed.

And there was blood.

Aiden slipped free, tumbling to the sand with a sharp cry that sliced through me like a blade.

The world shattered.

I moved.

I didn’t think—I moved.

Brock’s knife whistled past my ear.

A blur of silver in the air.

Joe turned, intercepting the rogue who’d rushed us from behind—just a grunt, a thud, a body hitting the earth.

I went for the one with the dagger. I hit him like a freight train.

He barely had time to raise the blade before I had my hands around his throat. I drove him backward, tackled him into the sand, and squeezed.

No questions.

No threats.

Just my hand and his windpipe, collapsing like dry bark in my fist.

He made a horrible sound—wet and choking—and then nothing.

I didn’t even look at him.

I turned and ran to where Elena was kneeling in the sand, wailing.

Aiden was on his side, curled inward, blood soaking the front of his hoodie.

There was so much blood.

“Elena,” I said, voice shaking, “move—I need to see.”

She barely heard me, but shifted enough for me to drop to my knees. I yanked off my shirt, pressed it hard to the side of his neck.

The blood was coming slower now—but it hadn’t stopped.

“Check the dagger!” I barked at Brock.

He was already kneeling by the body, yanking the blade from the rogue’s stiffening fingers.

He turned it, sniffed it.

His jaw clenched.

“It’s silver, Alpha.”

Elena gasped, a sharp sound like the air had been punched out of her lungs.

I swore. Loudly.

I scooped Aiden into my arms—his body so small, so limp—and stood.

“Hold the shirt,” I told her. “Don’t stop pressing.”

She obeyed without hesitation, her hand already clamped to the fabric, knuckles white.

“Joe—get the car. Now.”

ELENA

It was a blur.

All of it.

The beach, the broken trail through the jungle, the villa coming into view again. Blood smeared across Derek’s chest. My hands wet with it. The scent thick and sharp in the heat.

Derek climbed into the back of the SUV, cradling Aiden like something fragile. I threw myself in beside them, my hand still pressed to the wound.

“Where?” Joe barked.

“Nearest wolf hospital,” Derek said. His voice was calm. Deadly. “Now.”

“He’s not breathing right,” I said, panic choking me. “Derek, he’s—he’s not—”

“Hold the pressure,” he said again. “We’ve got him. Just hold the pressure.”

Joe drove like a lunatic, Brock riding shotgun, shouting into his phone. “Clear the road. Wolf hospital. We’ve got a child down—silver poisoning and blood loss.”

Everything outside the windows passed in streaks of heat and motion. Cars blared their horns as we flew past. I couldn’t see anything but Aiden’s face—pale, streaked with blood and sweat, lips slightly parted. Every bump made him jostle in Derek’s arms.

My son.

Our son.

Derek’s voice was low, steady. He was whispering to Aiden—words I couldn’t make out, voice thick with something unspoken. One of his hands gripped Aiden’s wrist, feeling for a pulse.

He kept finding it.

But it was weak.

Too weak.

I pressed harder on the wound with the wadded-up shirt, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to do something. His skin was so cold. His body so still.

Please, goddess. Please, not my boy. Not my baby.

The tires squealed.

We flew through the streets, faster than I thought was possible, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. Cars honked. People shouted. None of it mattered.

Aiden still hadn’t moved.

Derek cradled him against his chest, murmuring something too low for me to hear. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His pants were soaked in blood. His hands were steady—but his jaw was locked. His eyes were fixed on Aiden’s face like he could will him to stay alive just by looking at him.

I wiped tears from my cheeks, realizing too late they’d even started to fall.

My hand never left the pressure point at Aiden’s neck.

I didn’t know if he was breathing.

I didn’t know if he could feel me.

He was so small in Derek’s arms. Too small. He’d never looked so fragile.

The lights flew by in a smear of color. I had no idea where we were. Just buildings. Roads. Forest.

Then suddenly—we were through a checkpoint. The road turned to smooth gravel. A sign blurred past. I caught the word SHIFTER MEDICAL but nothing else.

The tires screeched again.

The building ahead was white and glowing and full of people in motion.

We were there.

DEREK

The car hadn’t even fully stopped when the back door flew open and a team of nurses descended.

“We’ve got him—move!”

Hands reached for Aiden.

I hesitated.

I didn’t want to let go.

Not until I had to.

I bent over him and laid him down as gently as I could, whispering, “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” even though I had no idea if it was true.

He didn’t respond.

One of the nurses snapped a mask over his face. Another took over compressing the cloth against his neck.

“Neck wound—silver blade—pediatric trauma team now!” someone shouted.

And then he was gone.

Through the double doors.

Swallowed by the white lights and chaos and voices I couldn’t follow.

I just stood there.

The space where he’d been in my arms felt violently empty.

I turned—and there was Elena, standing in the middle of the ER like a ghost. Her hair was plastered to her face. Her hands and arms were streaked with blood. Her chest rose and fell in jerky bursts, like her body couldn’t remember how to breathe.

And then she was moving.

She stumbled toward me and collapsed into my chest like gravity had given out.

I caught her. Wrapped my arms around her without thinking.

She buried her face into the curve of my neck, her fingers clinging to me. Trembling. Not sobbing, not yet. Just shaking like something was breaking inside her and holding me was the only thing keeping her upright.

I held her tighter.

This wasn’t about us.

This wasn’t about mating bonds or past mistakes.

This was about the boy she loved. The boy who’d bled in my arms.

The boy she would burn the world for.

I could feel it in the way she held me—like I was the only solid thing left in a life unraveling by the second. Like maybe, for one breath, we could pretend none of it had happened. That he was still with us. That she wasn’t covered in his blood.

I rested my chin lightly on her head, my throat tight.

And for once, I didn’t try to speak.

Didn’t offer comfort I couldn’t promise.

I just held her.

Held her while nurses moved around us, while doors slammed, while voices shouted words that didn’t make sense.

Held her like it would keep her from breaking.

Held her like it would keep me from breaking too.