Land of Wolves

Chapter 67

"Oh, you sad little chap," Adam says, stepping into the room.

My tense muscles relax at the sound of his voice. He's visited my room a few times now, but I'm relieved every time I'm met with physical proof he's alive. Objectively, I know he is, but whenever he leaves the room, a little part of me begins to doubt it.

What if I'm imagining his last visit? What if he died out on the field with Caleb?

I stare at the wall behind Adam's head, not wanting to meet his gaze. I know what he's going to say, and I don't want to hear it.

"Caleb is asking about you," he continues.

My hands curl into tight fists, my nails digging into the sensitive flesh of my palms. I'm not ready to see Caleb. I'm not prepared to see his mangled face and broken, limp body.

I refuse.

I'm hanging on by a thread right now. A thin, barely there thread, and seeing Caleb has the potential to snap it. It has the potential to crumble everything I have and the only thing in this life I've ever truly cared about.

What if he's dead?

What if I'm hallucinating everything, or the wolves are tricking me into looking at his dead body? I'm sure they were disappointed to learn I was the informant, and what if they're using Caleb's corpse to take out their revenge?

I don't want to see it.

"He's been awake for a few hours now," Adam says, stepping further into the room.

Has he?

I've been told Caleb was rushed into surgery when he arrived, and Adam and Greg have been coming in frequently to give updates. I'm unsure how long I've been sitting in this room, but I wouldn't have guessed hours.

It only feels like it's been a few minutes since I was brought to the hospital.

Adam leans against the counter along the far wall of the room. He and Greg have tried to get me to leave this room several times, but I don't see the point.

Caleb's dead.

There's nothing left for me.

"Ev." Adam snaps his fingers, drawing my attention. I think he's been talking for a few minutes now, but I haven't been listening.

I turn, my attention captured by the scratch marks on his neck. They look human, and they travel from the center of his throat down to the top of his shirt. Bells must be giving him a hard time. Adam brings his shoulders to his ears, trying to hide the marks.

It doesn't work.

I tap my big toes together, not enjoying the feeling of the seams on the inside of my foot. Greg came in earlier and shoved a pair of socks on my feet, but they are twisted and the seam is on the side of my foot instead of across the top.

I've debated reaching down and fixing them several times, but it feels like too much work.

"You can't hide in here forever," Adam says, kicking off the counter and approaching the bed I sit on.

At first, I was impressed by how comfortable it was, but now my ass is numb. I'm sitting directly on my tailbone, and I don't think I've been able to feel my butt for a while. The realization has crossed my mind a few times, but I'm yet to move.

I'll get to it eventually.

Adam continues forward, and I grimace as he touches my shoulder. His body heat burns me through the fabric of my hospital gown, and I lick my peeling lips as I turn and stare at the wall again.