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.
With shaky hands and clammy fingers, I pull out the ampoule from my pocket and fumble with the seal before drawing out the gold-like liquid with the syringe. Aden's breath grow erratic; just like his heartbeat. I lay out his palm open my thigh and find the delicate vein running up his arm into the pit of his elbow.
The antidote stings as it enters his bloodstream. Emptying the barrel, I pull out the needle.
I feel his gaze still boring into me as I rise to my feet.
"Come." I say quietly. "Let's get you to bed."
⬛️⬛️⬛️
The rest of the night is a blur.
To him at least.
To me, no amount of whiskey would help me forget.
I instruct one of the Omegas to bring us a first aid kit, while I rummage through his drawers. He stands behind me in silence, a towel slung around his hips. Water drips on the carpet as he waits.
"You can change." I say, wilfully keeping my eyes averted. "I'm not looking."
I hear sound of his footsteps moving towards the wardrobe. The sliding and shutting of sideboards. The soft exhale of breath once he pulls up his boxers.
My skin prickles. I ignore the flutter in my chest when I turn and see him without a shirt. Despite the smatter of dark bruises across his skin, like a burst of nebulae, he still manages to steal my breath away.
I pull back the duvet, waiting for him to slide between the sheets. He obeys wordlessly.
"Sleep, Aden." I dim the lights and sit by his bedside. His body shifts a little as if to make place.
"Stay with me." His hand reaches out to grasp my wrist. "Please?"
My heart constricts until it hurts.
"Okay." Slowly, I brush the hair away from his face, my touches lasting longer than necessary. "I'll be here when you wake."
His eyes close.
His breathing evens—his chest rising and falling in rhythm as he drifts off to sleep. A small content smile traces his lips.
A few moments pass before the door creaks open and someone enters the room. A tray of wet towels, some pills, sachet of ice and a basin is placed at on the bedside table. I turn when I feel a gentle squeeze on my shoulder.
Nellie.
Even in the dim light, I can see the emotion in her eyes. "You okay?" She asks me.
I nod mutely.
"It's late, you should get some rest." Her gaze travels briefly towards Aden's sleeping form before returning to me. "Finally. You should've seen him when he heard you had gone without him. Gods, he was furious."
I went for him, I want to say.
I don't, of course.
"Well, he has always been an obstinate bastard." I force out a light chuckle instead.
"Mhm." She hums with an all too knowing look. "Clearly, gets that from his father— who, hasn't stepped into the room even once since he fell sick. He was so afraid his son's contagious."
My eyes flash. "That's such bullshit. Aden's not—"
"I know. Jason, well, Jason's a delusional old geezer." She pauses to stare at his hands and blinks as recognition dawns. "Are those—oh, so that's what they were talking about."
"Who was?"
"The Guardians. They were here when his condition worsened. They told him he's allowed to remove them for a few moments if the pain was that unbearable, but he didn't. They even tried to sedate him, but he was having none of it."
Because he knew more than the poison spreading through his system, how vulnerable his mind would be to Greyhound if he removed it. If Grey using him managed to break into their minds too somehow...
Aden had to stay awake.
Had to suffer because if he didn't, his pack would in his stead.
"He has his faults." Nellie murmurs as she takes leave. "But irresponsibility was never one of them."
Nellie has never been Aden's biggest fan, but for her to say this, to take his side... it's a strange feeling.
When the door clicks shut behind us, I pull out the bandage rolls from the drawer and wrap them around his wrists. Place wet towels over his body and check his temperature again as I see the color gradually return to his pale skin.
For now, I can only pray his wounds are external. If he's haemorrhaging internally, faster than the antidote worked—
I squeeze my eyes shut. No, that won't happen. Couldn't bear to imagine if it did.
Instead, I focus on what I can heal.
His hands. His brutally damaged hands. Sparks erupt as I take them in mine again.
Power surges into his body like the rising tide. My eyes close as I concentrate. Feel, discern every inch of skin and fibre of muscle and pulsing vessel beneath my fingertips. And as my hand traces a pattern over his open wounds, the cells cluster to form new tissue which stitches itself back together. Seamless. Painless.
Aden stirs, his brows furrowing. His head turns from side to side. His lips part. Among the mumbled string of words, the one I make out is my name.
A knot forms in my chest.
Zara, my wolf purrs blissfully.
I hold onto Aden's scarred hands as I slide off the bed. Sink to my knees and rest my chin on the edge of his bed. Heat radiates from his body when my thumb strokes his fingers.
He whimpers in his sleep.
His vitals are stable. Most of his contusions across his back and chest are healing. Except for the muscle atrophy, he's recovering fast. And even that can be reversed once the effects of the antidote fully set in. His wolf form grows stronger while his human form rests.
With luck, he'll be on his feet tomorrow.
Relief seeps into my cracked soul, piecing it back together. Maybe things will work out, after all. Even amidst the horror of bloodshed and battle, in the coldest nights and darkest days, we can find their happily ever after if we truly wish it.
Aden squirms, his face twisting into an expression of discomfort. He moans through clenched teeth, hand unconsciously tightening over my thumb.
I lean forward and place a lingering kiss on each of bruised knuckles.
"Live, Aden." I command. My eyes never stray from his face even when hot tears blur my vision. "I'll be damned if you don't."
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️
A/N
To clarify, the poison is like vasculotoxic and neurotoxic snake venom. No matter how good a doctor you are, you need the specific antidote on hand. Give the wrong one and it'll kill them faster. Sucking it out with your mouth is also impractical and dangerous. The idea to use silver wristlets was inspired from the tourniquets used in such cases.
I hope this clears up all the confusion so far.
Next chapter (Aden's POV) on Thursday.
xoxo
Chris