Mercy and the Merciless Alpha

Chapter Three

I nodded once and he went off running again. We both knew I wasn't going to stay. There was a small piece of me that ached at the thought of abandoning my mate but then an even greater part that reminded me of the kind of person Azrael was.

This was perfect.

I could heal the few wolves with the most threatening injuries and by the time Emmanuel came back from fighting, I would already be gone.

As I moved further away from the center of the clearing where bodies being attended to, I came upon the lifeless ones of the fighters that didn't make it or were too far gone for help.

"Help." A voice croaked out..

"Please..."

I peered around the bodies and my eyes landed on one in particular. It was the nearly headless guy they were talking about back in the cells, they really weren't kidding. I didn't know how his head was still attached it look like it could roll off at any given moment.

"Help me please."

My jaw hit the floor. The head talked, the almost decapitated Head was the source of the pleas. This man was alive.

Barely.

Now there was really no excuse for me. I glanced around the area I was in, there weren't any wolves in this part of the clearing and I assumed that was because I was standing amidst all of those who couldn't be saved.

I had time. I could still heal him and make a getaway, no one would see me and I doubted that once I healed this guy he would even remember me.

I would be back home by nightfall—easy peasy.

There was blood everywhere around his body, whoever did this to him had no intentions of a swift death; this was cruel and unusual for any wolf to inflict an injury like this.

I knelt down on the grass beside him, cringing at the noise my knees met when they connected with the bloody grass. There was no time to be grossed out, he didn't have time for that.

In addition to his head nearly being ripped off, there were claw marks all over his face. They completely marred whatever identifying facial features he had. It was gruesome to say the least.

I rested my hands on his chest and closed my eyes, I felt his waning life force and just like his head, it was hanging on by a thread.

Healing someone was a bizarre feeling and an equally bizarre process. It was almost like I was transferring all of my life force and channeling it into another body. My father said that we are able to heal because our life force regenerates at an accelerated rate— so we are able to give our energy to someone because ours will rejuvenate.

I was going to need a lot of rest after this.

My brows furrowed in concentration as I forcefully willed my energy to heal him, I envisioned his ligaments growing back together and his wounds healing. I imagined his body fully restored and I focused every ounce of my energy to will that into reality.

I began to shake under an invisible weight, I realized that this task was much more taxing than I'd first thought. It felt very similar to the extremity of Weston's coma, I felt myself struggling to heal this man.

My head began to scream, it felt like my skull was going to crack under the pressure when finally, a loud gasp resounded across the empty field.

I fell backwards as the man shot up from the ground, all the adrenaline from the attack suddenly coursing back through his veins. From my spot on the ground I saw him clutching his head in his hands, Ive never been seriously injured before but I imagine being healed virtually in seconds isn't all that pleasant afterwards. I took my time getting up, I didn't mind being on the ground, it gave me a chance to catch my breath after being strained like that.