Chapter 72

Eric

I woke up with a start, jerking upright in bed as the shrill beeping of my alarm finally pierced through my deep sleep. Cursing under my breath, I slammed my hand down on the nightstand, silencing the alarm with a groan.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I squinted at the numbers glowing in the dim light. 7:45am. I was already fifteen minutes behind schedule.

“Shit…”

Throwing off the tangled sheets, I swung my legs over the side of the mattress—only to freeze as a dull ache radiated through my muscles. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation; one that actually gave me pause. When was the last time I had felt weary like this?

With a frown, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way over to the bathroom, flicking on the light as I stepped inside.

The face that stared back at me from the mirror didn’t entirely feel like my own. I sighed, averting my gaze to grab my toothbrush. My eyes looked duller, like the piercing blue hue had been muted and washed out. Even my hair seemed to have lost some of its luster, my blond locks lacking their usual glossy sheen.

But it was when my gaze drifted down to the broad expanse of my chest and arms that the knot of dread really began to coil in the pit of my stomach. I flexed experimentally, watching as my muscles shifted and bunched beneath my tanned skin—but not with the same, effortless power I had grown accustomed to over the years.

If anything, they looked smaller. Diminished, like I was dehydrated.

But most of all, there was the silence. That eerie, empty silence in the back of my mind. I knew why, of course. I had chosen this.

I was the one who had made my way to the witch’s house last night. I had paid her, taken the serum against my wolf’s wishes. I had done so because I knew Rowena’s wolf was emerging, and I couldn’t have her finding out that we were mates—and thus finding out that she was not actually a Griffith.

Even now, I could still hear my wolf’s furious voice echoing in the back of my mind—he was furious, shouting all kinds of obscenities at me. He had called me stupid, foolish, cruel. Maybe I was all of those things, at least in his eyes.

But I had to protect Rowena, no matter the cost to myself.

Now, staring at this pale shadow of my former self reflected back at me, seeds of doubt began to take root. I still didn’t know exactly what had happened to Rowena last night, and I didn’t know what extent I would need to go to in order to protect her.

A muscle ticked in my jaw as I thought back on last night. Those tears streaming down her cheeks, the frightened look in her eyes, the acrid scent of a man all over her… The way her skin was flushed pink when she had gotten out of the shower, as though she had been trying to scrub someone off of her.

Whoever had hurt her would pay dearly for it. Even without my wolf’s power, I would make them suffer a fate worse than death for daring to lay a hand on her.

Suppressing a growl, I quickly finished getting ready for the day, deciding to skip my classes until I got to the bottom of what had happened to my mate.

…

My first stop was the camp’s infirmary, where I knew Rowena had been working late last night. I stopped at the head combat manager’s desk to speak to him first; if anyone would know what happened last night, it would be him.

“Ah, Mr. Griffith,” the head combat manager greeted me with a curt nod as I stepped into his office. “What can I do for you this morning?”

I cut straight to the chase. “I need to speak with the physician Rowena Griffith was working under last night.”

The manager’s brow furrowed slightly at my terse words, but he didn’t question them. “I’m afraid Dr. Reynolds has taken the rest of the week off.”

“Why?” I demanded.

The combat manager hesitated, seeming to choose his next words carefully under the weight of my hard stare. “Dr. Reynolds didn’t provide specifics. He simply called out, saying he would be taking some… personal days.”

“Was Dr. Reynolds the only one here last night, during the night shift?” I asked.

“Aside from Miss Rowena, yes,” the combat manager replied coolly, cocking his head. “Why?”

For a moment, I almost told him about my suspicions—but then I thought better of it. It was wiser not to say anything until I had more proof.

“No reason,” I said, turning on my heel and leaving.

As I strode back out to my car, my jaw clenched so hard I thought I might crack a tooth. Of course the bastard wouldn’t explain himself—not when he had something to hide. I could feel it in my bones; a crawling, visceral certainty that whatever had happened, Dr. Reynolds was behind it. He had been the only one here last night, and Rowena was still in her uniform when I found her.

Yes, I was sure of it. But I needed more evidence first.

Once I returned to my car, I instantly kicked it into gear and sped off toward where I knew Dr. Reynolds lived. His house was situated on the outskirts of town, an expensive little single-story modern house that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the quaint cottages. There was usually an expensive sports car in the driveway, but not today.

“Not home, huh?” I murmured, putting the car in park a ways down the street. “Unlucky for you, I’ve got all day.”

For the better part of the morning and afternoon, I sat in my car, stoically watching the physician’s house for any signs of movement. And for a long time, there was nothing; I began to wonder, even, if he went out of town for the week.

But eventually, around dinnertime, I saw his garish blue Camaro pull into the driveway. I leaned a little further back in my seat, watching solemnly.

I saw him get out of the car and scurry inside, checking over his shoulder like a scared animal.

His face was bandaged.

Instantly, I felt a sneer curl back my upper lip. Bastard, I thought to myself; so something had indeed happened the night before. I was sure of it.

Part of me wanted to march up to his house and confront him then and there, but I knew he likely already had his lies lined up. No, I needed to wait—and gather more evidence.

And I knew just the person to call next.

Pulling out my phone, I watched Dr. Reynold’s form disappear through his front door and dialed the number of the camp’s chief security officer—Marcus, a man who I knew wouldn’t dare ignore the demands of the Alpha’s son.

“Marcus,” I said, my sneer growing as I saw the lights turn on inside and the blinds snap shut. “I need to come take a look at your security footage.”