Page 104

I swallowed a protest that if Byron was hurt badly enough to need surgery, he could hardly say I’d gotten them backsafe.
“Thank you,” I said instead.
As I’d feared, the duty nurse was less forthcoming about giving me Byron’s room number. Fortunately, he was finally swayed by the magic words, “I’m his pack leader.”
Byron was in an entirely different wing for post-op, and when I eventually managed to get to the right place, I discovered that someone else had beaten me here. Beatrix Delgado was looming over the nurses’ station in full old-lady armor, including a handbag that looked heavy enough to cave in someone’s skull.
“I know perfectly well how late it is, young woman!” she was saying. “Do I look like I want to be driving at this time of night? Now check again; I’m listed as his next of kin!”
“Mrs. Delgado?” I said.
She turned around, peering at me. “Oh, it’s you! I told you, call me Bea like everyone else does.” She turned back to the nurse. “Here now. This gentleman is Byron’s pack leader. So, kindly tell us where he is.”
Defeated, the nurse turned back to her computer and tapped at the keyboard. “Yes, of course, ma’am. The patient is in Room 487. He’s likely to be woozy, though.”
“Thank you,” Bea said crisply, and led the way toward the room in question.
“Tony isn’t here with you, is he?” I asked, once we were out of range of the nurses’ station.
Bea scoffed. “Course he isn’t. I may be old, but I’m not a fool, Zalen. Now, do you know what happened? They told me, ‘leg laceration with significant blood loss,’ but nothing about how it happened.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know much,” I said. “He and the others were being held in a warehouse, and three of the bad guysdidn’t walk away after the SWAT team arrived. What happened between those two things is still a bit of a mystery, though.”
“Hmph,” she said, eyeing me sideways. “Tony told me he snooped around to get you the address. Under the circumstances, I can’t bring myself to fuss at him about it.”
“Agreed,” I told her.
She lifted her chin. “Not planning on dragging him back to his parents, then?”
I met her rheumy gaze. “Dragging who back to what parents? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
Bea gave a sharp nod of approval and headed for the door marked 487. “Good answer.”
She tugged it open without knocking, revealing a gray-faced figure lying in a critical care bed with a female nurse leaning over him.
The nurse turned. “Hello?”
“We’re here to see Byron,” Bea said with finality. “How is he doing?”
“How does it look like I’m doing?” a weak voice shot back.
“Mr. Harper is just out of surgery,” the nurse said primly. “The doctor will be in later to discuss his case in more depth, but the wound has been sutured and he’s had several units of blood. We’re starting him on IV antibiotics to combat infection.”
“The others are safe, Byron,” I said, unsure if he was aware of that fact or not. The way his eyes slipped closed and the breath sighed out of him made me think he probably hadn’t been.
“I know you need to rest, but we wanted to check on you first,” I continued. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” he said.
“Can you tell us what happened?” I asked.
He made a bitter little noise in the back of his throat. “Got stabbed, laid around bleeding for a while, and let them take Luca off to be gang-raped. Next question?”
Bea dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and flopped into it. “Youletthem, eh? So, they asked your opinion about it first?”
I came and stood behind the old alpha’s shoulder, ignoring the vaguely disapproving look the nurse was throwing us.
“I’m his—” Byron cut himself off with a frustrated growl. “I’m an alpha. If I can’t even protect an omega because I freeze whenever someone pulls a gun, what the hell am I good for?”