WITHOUT thinking, I tore away from Wade and sprinted towards my brother's room. I could hear both Wade and Olivia's footsteps behind me as I frantically navigated the winding hallway.
Dad's soul-crushing screams replayed over and over in my head.
Henry still had time. He wasn't supposed to die yet.
While he had slipped into a coma, we still had time. We still had time to hang onto the false hope he would wake up.
Panting, my shoes slid against the tile floors. Dad stood at Henry's side, but he was inching further and further away with each passing second. Henry looked less like himself than he had when I left to begin funeral preparations.
His skin had turned a shade paler, which I did not know was even possible. His body, slack and sweaty, blended into the bright white sheets surrounding him. His hair hung down his face, and my breath hitched.
Henry, all his life, had been dubbed Dad's little clone, a perfect carbon copy of himself. However, Dad's close proximity to my dying brother made it apparent. No one would be able to pinpoint the almost near-perfect resemblance. He was that sick.
Bile rose up my throat, and I slapped a hand over my mouth in case my stomach deceived me. I gulped down the bile, blinking hard.
"Dad," I heaved, voice filled with concern. Dad's eyes flashed over me, large and burning bright. He took a deep breath in. "What's wrong?"
Dad shook his head, his mouth hanging wide open. "He...he moved."
I closed my eyes and dared to step closer. He had truly lost it. No one ever woke up from a coma when Lupoxia was their diagnosis. No one. As much as I would have liked to believe my pesky, little brother was the exception to the rule, I couldn't make myself believe it.
"Dad," my voice was light.
He shook his head more furiously. "Violet." He licked his lips. "Don't—You didn't see it. He moved. He moved. My son, my son moved."
His voice grew more frantic with each syllable uttered, and I bridged the gap between us. "Dad."
I pulled him into an embrace, and he crumbled in my arms. His loud sobs rang through my shoulder as he murmured, "He moved," over and over again. I ran a hand down his back and looked at Henry's pale figure.
His condition had declined rapidly over the past twenty-four hours. He went from being able to joke to hardly being able to breathe. The strength to keep his eyes open slowly left his body. The only sign he was conscious had been off and on moans that left his chapped lips—that was before he slipped into his coma.
Seeing Henry so vulnerable, lying on his hospital bed so hopeless made me understand Dad. The truth of Henry's condition was hard to look at, and it was harder to grasp.
Squeezing Dad tighter, I gulped. I didn't know if I had it in me to follow through with my promise to Henry. Seeing Dad in such a state brought all the memories and habits of two years ago right to the forefront of my mind.
I had promised him not to stay back and watch over Dad, but my family members were thinning by the minute. He was one of the last ones I had left.
My heart quenched, and I could feel both Wade and Olivia awkwardly standing in the doorway. There was no right thing to say in such a situation, so they didn't say anything.
Taking a deep breath in, I looked at Henry, and then my body went rigid. I could have sworn I saw his fingers twitch. But it was impossible. I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
I so desperately wanted Dad's words to be true that I somehow must have tricked my mind into thinking Henry had moved. There was no other logical explanation.
Henry's fingers twitched slightly again, ruffling the blanket underneath.
"Dad," I whispered, stunned. Dad did not respond, so I repeated, this time more urgent, "Dad."
"Give me a moment, please," he pleaded, slowly pulling away from my embrace as he wiped the tears off his cheeks.
"Dad, no." I shook my head. "I saw it."
He looked at me like he didn't understand.
"He moved," I said, and Dad's eyebrows furrowed. He whipped around to look at Henry, but Henry was unresponsive. Dad heaved a sigh and straightened his shoulders when Henry's fingers moved again.
He turned toward me. "He moved."
"How is that possible?" I wondered out loud, and Dad hurried to Henry's side. He pressed the nurse's button.
"We need a doctor." He tapped his foot and then pressed the button again. On a ward full of dying patients, there was no urgency to rush into the room. Dad resorted to yelling instead, "We need a doctor in here!"
Wade stepped forward and said, "I'll go look for one."
Dad gave me a questioning look before turning back to Henry. "Henry, if you can hear me, please—oh, that's good, Henry, keep moving your hands like, yes!"
I could see the hope built within Dad, and I hoped this was not a false symptom. I hoped Henry was in the process of waking up rather than being in the final moments of his short life.
Wade had not been gone long before he rushed back into the room, Dr. Lud at his heels.
"What is it?" he asked, slightly out of breath.
"He moved," Dad beamed. "My son. He moved."
"Conrad," Dr. Lud's tone shifted, and he toyed with the stethoscope around his shoulder. "Henry is in the final stages—"
"Did you see that?" Dad interrupted as not only were Henry's fingers moving, but his arm was as well. "Just like I said. He moved."
"Impossible," Dr. Lud went over to Henry's side and squeezed his hand. "Impossible... unless."
Dr. Lud looked up and pointed his attention toward Wade. Wade took a step back and asked, "Why are you—"
"A pack is only as strong as its Alpha," Dr. Lud stated, watching over Henry's vitals.
"I know," Wade nodded his head as he folded his arms together.
Dr. Lud straightened. "There's a theory that the strength of an Alpha is reflected in his or her pack. You've—understandably—been through a lot, Alpha Wade," as Dr. Lud addressed Wade by his title, Dad's eyes bulged. He looked stunned as he looked toward me and then back again to Wade. "Bluestrike just might have been paying the price for your lapse in mental health. This is all just a theory, of course. I do not mean to overstep my boundaries and blame you, Alpha Wade. I am merely offering an explanation."
Wade paced the room. "I—"
"May I ask, did anything change recently?" Dr. Lud asked.
Instantly, Wade stopped in his tracks and looked at me. "Violet."
"Me?" I squeaked. "What do I—"
He stepped closer to me. Abruptly, he closed the distance and twirled me around, laughing. "Everything, Violet. You have everything to do with it."
"Uh," Olivia interrupted. "Care to explain to the rest of us?"
Stunned, I said, "Care to explain to me?"
He set me down and looked at Olivia. "If we go off the theory a pack is only as strong as its Alpha—me—then the root cause of my weakness was my mate, Willow. She died at the hands of Reapers. I dedicated much of my life after her death to trying to bring her back. I got so lost in trying to raise her from the dead, I didn't think I could resurface, much less open my heart back up."
"But then I met Violet, and she made me see how far gone I truly was. My weakness was my mate, but Violet's also my mate," Wade explained while Dad couldn't refrain from exclaiming, "What?"
Wade smiled, but I wasn't so easily convinced. "Okay, but that doesn't explain why this is all happening right now. You found out I was your mate weeks ago."
"Right," he acknowledged with a slight tilt of the head. "But it wasn't until today that we both truly opened our hearts to the bond."
Olivia looked at me with wide eyes, and I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I mean, maybe Henry just got some other kind of illness. Everyone with Lupoxia can't possibly be showing signs of—"
"Actually," Dr. Lud spoke up. "They are. I'm getting reports from nurses and a couple doctors that many of the patients on this ward are showing signs of waking up. Some who weren't that far advanced are starting to feel their symptoms lessen."
We all looked at each other, and as if perfectly timed, Henry's eyes shot open, and he asked, "Did I die yet?"
Dad broke out into laughter, which soon turned into a relieved sob. Dr. Lud quickly gave Henry a visual check-up and then left to check on his other patients.
"You better not cry like that at my funeral," Henry looked overwhelmed as he watched Dad. When Henry's eyes landed on Wade, he looked puzzled. "Who the hell are you?"
Laughing, I introduced Wade, "This is my mate, Alpha Wade."
Wade beamed down at me, and it felt like the tides were finally shifting.