In a cold night
There will be no fair fight
There will be no good night
To turn and walk away.
Yes I'm a sinner
Yes I'm a saint
Whatever happens here
We remain.
—Christina Aguilera (We Remain)
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️
SO I TELEPORT.
Ampoule clasped in my hand, my knees buckle as I crash onto the plush carpeted floor of his room.
After a moment to steady myself, I raise my head and glance around the room. It's empty. Not a soul in sight.
"Aden?"
I rise from the carpet and move towards the bed. His scent still lingers here, which means he hasn't been gone for long.
Blankets wrinkled and twisted; pillows scrunched up; bedcovers ripped apart at their seams. The drawers next to the bedside table have been pulled out like someone was recently rummaging through it. I catch sight of a few rolls of bandages and unused syringe packs scattered in there. Picking one, I slide it into my pocket.
"Aden?" I call out, louder this time. "Where are you?"
Panic jolts through me. Am I too late?
No, Aden wouldn't die. Couldn't die. I won't let him.
In the background, I hear the muffled sound of the shower running. In seconds, I've already crossed the room and am knocking on the bathroom door. No answer.
A dull thud ensues as a body collapses on the tiles.
Like lightning, I barge in, bracing for the worst. A blast of steam that hits me square in the face the moment I step in. So much steam that it's impossible to see.
"Aden!" I push forward.
With one hand on the doorframe, I peer into the dimly light bathroom. The shower glass is fogged up but through the between the small rivulets trailing down the glass, I glimpse the outline of a man slumped against the wall.
He lifts his head slightly, as I enter.
I fix my gaze on his face, on his gaunt cheekbones and hollowed out eyes, the bluish tint that creeps across his lips—instead of the cascade of water droplets trailing down his neck, his bare shoulders and the V cut at his hips down to his—
The stall's too small.
The steam's too much.
Aden doesn't seem to mind though. His pupils darken until black almost completely devours grey.
"Kiara." The way he says my name; slow and gutteral. "You're home."
I grab a towel off the rack and throw it over his bare body before I dare move closer. Cold water chills my arm when I reach out and switch off the shower. Kneeling on the wet tiles, I take his hands in mine.
He's studying me, eyes roving my face as he commits every inch to memory.
"You won't be needing these anymore." I whisper, tugging off the silver binding his wrist. They slip off and fall away, revealing charred skin and shreds of muscle—the last of what's left underneath.
Words die in my throat.
I check his temperature. Feel his pulse—weak and thready. Despite the cold shower, his skin is feverishly hot.
YOU ARE READING
Love And Betrayal | ✔️
WerewolfFour allies; one mission. Take down the tyrant. This should be easy considering they're the Chosen Wolves. They're inherently powerful. United, they'd be a force of nature. Unfortunately for the werewolf community, they face two minor setbacks: One...
