Alessia Stocklin and Ezra Withers are polar opposites, but they can certainly agree on one thing: their mutual hate for each other.
He's an Alpha deadset on killing every rogue he comes across, while she's a vigilante - known as Nightshade - intent...
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My eyes erupted open, and I let out a blood-curdling scream. My body lurched forward, choking on the surrounding air. It felt like a million nails were being hammered into my shoulder. I screamed again, this time louder. My ears started to ring, and my hand instinctively lifted to soothe the wound on my left shoulder, but some unknown force pushed me down.
As my eyes adjusted to the dull gleam of the flickering lights, Apollo — worry lines deep and protruding on his forehead — kept me pressed against the cool metal of the table below. The light above cast a shadow on Apollo's face in such a way that made him look ten years older; it was like he was no longer just nine months older than me but nine decades older.
Still squirming, Apollo said, "Will you hold still? I'm trying to save your life here."
Recoiling back, a bolt of red-hot pain rang through my body, rendering me unable to see what Apollo was doing to me.
"This might hurt," Apollo said, and then I was thrust back into the darkness.
It went on for what seemed like hours. I would wake up each time scared and out of my mind. Apollo would try to calm me, trying to explain the situation. Yet, he never got very far in said explanation before I was out cold again. On top of not having a pack doctor handy, our pack did not have any sufficient drugs in case of an emergency, which proved to be a detriment. Apollo was trying to MacGyver me back together with nothing stronger than the nearest bottle of alcohol.
When I woke up for the final time, I expected the same continuous cycle to repeat itself. However, instead of laying on a foreign table, I had been transported back to my childhood bedroom. My room — despite having moved out almost four years ago — was largely untouched. I packed most of my belongings when I moved out, but I left behind a few trinkets and items that would not fit into my apartment.
"Finally," Apollo exhaled. I turned my head to see Apollo by my side. He had brought in a chair from the pack dining room and was sitting as close to the side of my bed as inhumanly possible. "You've been out for hours."
I nodded my head and then looked down. I was clad in just the sports bra and shorts I had put on earlier in the day (or what I assumed was earlier in the day as I didn't know what time it was). My shoulder was bandaged up. Taking a look underneath the bandage, I laughed.
"This is payback, isn't it?" I asked, slumping back into the pillow behind me. The bed still was made up of the sheets I had as a child, covered in little whimsical flowers.
Apollo wrung his hands before exploding. "You don't know how worried I was, Alessia. You almost died! Alessia, I can't lose you," he squeezed my hand. "And, if you mean to insult my handy work, then, yes, it might be a bit of payback. You'll have a scar for sure, but I think it's well deserved."
"Did you mend me all by yourself?"
"Yes," Apollo said, "Well, it was just me at first, but then Alpha Byron came to lend a hand once things in the clearing settled. He's handy when it comes to a scalpel. We weren't able to find any pain medicine, so you kept waking up. Byron helped hold you down. When you've had some time to heal, you might want to look at your injury to make sure I didn't totally mutilate you, just in case. I did what I thought you would do in this situation, but I've never had to mend anyone before, Alessia."
