Chapter 82

Rowena

I hovered anxiously over the warrior’s bedside, my teeth gnawing at my bottom lip as I watched him strain against the thick leather restraints binding him to the cot. A thin sheen of sweat glistened across his brow, his eyes wild and glazed as he thrashed around—growls and snarls ripping from his throat like a feral animal.

He had been sedated, which reduced his fury immensely. I wondered what it would be like if he hadn’t been.

“God,” Eric muttered from somewhere behind me, low and full of worry. “He’s... he’s completely gone, isn’t he?”

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the pen I held as I watched a thin line of white foam dribble from the corner of the warrior’s mouth. This was bad—so, so bad. The Wolf’s Fury virus had progressed so quickly, far more quickly than I could have imagined. Just minutes ago, he had seemed relatively coherent save for his unfocused gaze and jerky movements. Now…

Now he was practically feral, utterly detached from his humanity.

A shudder wracked my frame as I took him in. Thankfully, Eric had stepped in, slamming into the feral warrior and pinning him to the ground before he managed to attack me. Nothing horrible had happened—no blood, no cuts or bites.

Otherwise, that might have been me laying in that bed. Or Eric, or the other warrior who had been sparring with him.

Suddenly, the sound of a harsh scoff from the corner of the room drew my attention, and I turned to find Heather leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest—her eyes studying the delirious warrior with a carefully blank expression.

Of course she had made a beeline for camp as soon as she found out about the incident. Nosy bitch.

“Well, well.” She arched an eyebrow at me and Eric. “I sure hope you two haven’t been exposed. That would be sad, wouldn’t it?”

I opened my mouth to bite out a retort at her when the creak of the infirmary door opening cut me off. The head combat manager strode in, his expression grim as his eyes swept over the scene in front of him.

“Alright, I’ve called in the medic evacuation team to take him in for quarantine,” he announced in a gruff tone, turning his attention to me. “Did either of you get hurt?”

I tensed slightly at the question, glancing over at Eric. The incident from the other night flashed through my mind, the wound that I knew was really a bite still bandaged on Eric’s arm.

But I shook my head.

“No. Neither of us was hurt.”

“Good,” the head combat manager said with a grim nod. “I just need to fill out some paperwork. He’s sedated enough now where he shouldn’t be able to get loose from his restraints, but you guys need to keep an eye on him.”

“Will do, boss,” Heather retorted with a mocking salute that made the head manager roll his eyes as he walked away.

Only once he was gone, however, did I begin to move.

“Rowena, what are you—”

“Shush,” I muttered, cutting Eric off as I unwrapped the needle and the vial, approaching the warrior. Upon seeing me, his eyes widened even further, the foam at his mouth intensifying. But I kept approaching, slowly crouching toward his arm.

There, I wiped the crook of his arm with an antiseptic wipe and began to draw blood.

Heather scoffed behind me. “Drawing blood?” she mocked. “What, are you planning on doing your own research?”

“Exactly,” I said absentmindedly, keeping my focus on carefully taking the sample from the thrashing warrior.

Eric drew in a sharp breath and took a step forward. “Rowena, it’s not safe.” But I stopped him with a withering glare over my shoulder.

“Someone needs to find a cure,” I growled. “I know what I’m doing.”

From somewhere behind me, I heard Heather scoff again and approach. “What makes you think that you can find a cure if the professionals can’t?” she chided. “The only cure for Wolf’s Fury is death.”

I swallowed, glancing up at Eric. His jaw was set hard, but he said nothing. Finishing taking the sample, I carefully capped the vial and shoved it into my pocket, standing.

“That’s the issue,” I muttered, tossing the used syringe into the bio waste can along with my latex gloves. “People are dying when they shouldn’t—”

The sound of voices cut me off, and within seconds, a team of heavily armored medics came barreling through the door—their masks and protective gear making them look like something straight out of a horror film. Without a word to us, they immediately swarmed the warrior’s bedside and began prepping him for transport.

Within a matter of minutes, the whirlwind of medics had secured the warrior to a stretcher and were quickly wheeling him out of the room, flanked by a duo of armed guards. I watched them go, clenching the vial in my pocket.

That could have been Eric... hell, it still could be if we didn’t find something to cure him soon from that bite he had taken.

The dull thump of a clipboard being set down drew my attention, and I turned to find the head combat manager regarding Eric and I with a weary expression.

“Alright, you two,” he sighed, pushing a hand through his thinning hair. “Standard protocol—I need to examine you both for any cuts, bites, scratches... anything that could potentially expose you to contamination.”

My heart kicked up a notch in my chest, but I simply nodded and moved to pull my hair up into a messy bun, turning so he could inspect the back of my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eric carefully hide his arm behind his back, pretending to slip his hand into his pocket.

“You get cut or bitten anywhere during that scrap?” the combat manager asked Eric.

Eric’s jaw tightened, but he shook his head. “No. Nothing,” he said. I felt my stomach flip as I thought about his wrapped wound hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket.

Death is the only cure, Heather’s words echoed in my mind.

But Eric had no symptoms. I had made sure of that.

With that, the combat manager sent us on our way. It was as we were heading out to the parking lot, the warm sunlight bathing us, when I realized that camp must be evacuating—all of the students were heading out in droves, cars pulling out of parking spots and men in hazmat suits directing traffic.

Eric instinctively brought a hand up to shield his eyes, squinting against the brightness as he sucked in a deep breath of fresh air.

But something about his reaction seemed... off to me.

“Eric,” I said, pausing in my steps and forcing him to halt as well. Up close like this, bathed in the sun's full rays, I could see the way his pupils seemed almost unnaturally large—completely dilated despite the bright light.

Hesitantly, I reached up to gently grasp his chin—tilting his head from side to side.

His pupils didn’t react to the shifts in sunlight. Not as much as they should have, anyway.

“Eric—”

Suddenly, the sound of Adrian’s voice rang across the parking lot, loud and aggressive and clear as ever.

“Get the hell away from her!”