Pack Mentality: Wild at Heart

Chapter 11

There was a big difference between knowledge and experience. Seth had told her he was a werewolf, but Becky never truly believed it until she saw him shift. She imagined a werewolf bite was horrible, but she didn't know just how agonizing until Maggie attacked her. Reading all the case studies Zenna had found for her was helpful, but talking to the actual people behind the statistics would have been more reassuring. Becky could only hope they were all doing well. Was Patient 4382 still having nightmares and clawing at their own stomach? Had Patient 9303 finally stopped tugging at their own jaw, hoping to trigger a transformation that would never come? What number would I be? Becky thought absently. There was no number on her bed or her paperwork, but she had no doubt that Zenna was keeping notes like any good doctor would.

Vida had notes of her own, but Becky could at least make sense of those. The tall werewolf had fitted Becky for an experimental brace that looked like the plastic safety fencing that companies put around holes on their property, but it was comfortably snug. "You still can't bear weight," Vida warned, "but it will help hold things together."

"What things are left, anyway." Becky was trying to stay positive, but it could be difficult when she looked down and saw a huge chunk of her thigh missing. "At least I didn't have any tattoos, right?" She thought of some of heavily tattooed wrestlers like Rhea Ripley and all the thought they put into their body art.

"Maybe this is a sign to get some," Vida said with a smile. Once she had Becky's brace secured, she brought a wheelchair up to the bed. Like the hospital in general, it was sleek and optimized. "We have a few artists in the pack if you're interested."

Becky managed a smile. "Let's see what state I'm in after the full moon," she said grimly. "No sense in wasting time and ink, right?"

Vida sighed. "Becky, are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to. It's not required, and no one would blame you for not going."

I would, Becky thought. She had quickly learned to keep such notions to herself, though. All the werewolves seemed to have an uncanny way of reading her mood. "I want to go," she insisted. "I think... I think it will help. I know I have to make my decision soon." She lowered herself into the wheelchair and looked around the room. "Did I forget anything?" All the things she was used to—her purse, her phone—weren't there, and not even road life felt so disconnected. Seth had got her a temporary phone so she could stay in touch with friends, but there wasn't much she could share. The official human-version of the story was that she was in a car accident: since there were witnesses who knew she left Black & Brave alone, it had its roots in truth.

"Seth already took your bag to the van." Vida walked behind her, letting Becky get accustomed to the chair; though she likely wouldn't need it permanently, it would be weeks before she could walk reliably.

Thanks to some practice sessions, Becky knew how to open doors, get on the elevator, and move around the building with relative ease; she wished human buildings were designed so optimally. When they arrived on the bottom floor, Seth was already waiting and his face lit up when he saw her. I'm a goddamn wreck and he still looks at me like that. However broken she felt, nothing seemed to change in Seth's eyes, and that meant the world to her. "Ready?"

"If you are," he replied, pointing to the waiting van. Vida had arranged for a driver so Seth could sit and chat with Becky, and the driver waved.

It was Becky's first attempt at using a van ramp and she managed it fairly well, but it gave her a whole new appreciation for people who had to move though the world that way on a regular basis. She tried to focus on the sights during the ride, but the reality of knowing she was on her way to see a young woman be sentenced to die cast a pall over the bright day. "Will she know I'm there?" she asked Vida, who was sitting in the passenger seat.