Page 36 of Advocate Omega (Unforeseen Paths #1)

Zander

Lucan is sick.

I can smell the silver seeping from his pores. To say I’m worried is a fucking understatement.

Ever since I’ve met him, he’s always been so strong—so capable, and now he’s relying on me. An omega. All I want is to get him to safety and get him better.

How are we going to get out of this? No one knows we were attacked, that most of the wolves we brought with us are either dead or still captured.

These woods are unfamiliar, even though I have been in them before.

When my parents sacrificed themselves, and I ran.

The sounds coming from behind us only push me deeper into the memory.

Claws slashing, snarls and growls while blood spills and organs fall out onto the ground.

Seamus is sacrificing himself for strangers. Wolves, he owes nothing to.

But we don’t stop moving.

“Where do we fucking go?” Arlo growls, jogging ahead of us. “Where the fuck do we go?”

“Far away from this place,” Oberon offers. “We don’t stop.”

Lucan stiffens, his feet suddenly digging into the dirt. “Wait,” he barks. Even though he’s weak, disoriented, and off balance, he manages to lift his head. “We are going east.”

“So?” I ask, confused.

Shaking his head, he takes a sharp breath and says, “North.”

“North?” Oberon scowls. “That’s the opposite direction of home.”

“ When in doubt, go north. ”

It strikes my skull like lightning. “Gabe’s creepy grandma! She warned us!”

Lucan nuzzles the top of my head. “Go north, sweet.”

Everyone hesitates, but eventually, we listen to our Prime Alpha. Shifting course, we make our way to the north, all the while I send up a silent prayer to the fates that whatever creepy shit they’re up to saves our asses.

A sudden dead weight forces me to the ground. Arlo grunts, and my mate falls forward unconscious.

“Luc?” I shove at his side, attempting to roll him over, but he’s too heavy. “Oh gods, Luc!” Oberon stops and rushes to us. “Get him on his fucking back!”

Between the three of us, we manage to flip Lucan, and the sight of his ashen cheeks, closed eyes, and dark slime coating his lips sends me into a panic unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s soul-deep, all-consuming, and I scream.

Blinded by instinct, I straddle him and slam my fists on his chest. A wild hand checks his neck for a pulse, but I swat it away. He’s not dead.

“Lucan! Wake up. Wake up ,” I roar, continuing to beat into the wall of muscles beneath my hands. A thousand pin-pricks stab behind my eyes, sharp, acute pain pierces through my sternum. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!”

Leaning to angle my face over his mouth, I feel the faintest puffs of breath hit my cheek. I want to retch, to claw open his skin and squeeze life back into his heart.

“Three days…”

“What?” I snarl.

“He should’ve had three days before it got to this point,” Oberon says, somewhere far away.

“Maybe they altered the silver?” Arlo supplies, but none of that helps him.

Tears splash against my cheeks as I cup Lucan’s head and nuzzle him. Gods, he is so cold. So fucking cold already. Death and I are not strangers by any means, and plenty that I’ve cared about have died while I was helpless to stop it.

But Death can’t have him. Not yet. Not without me.

“Lucan,” I whimper. “You have to wake up. Fight it, please .”

“Zander,” Oberon says, pushing his alpha authority into his voice. I growl and shake my head, too focused on the male I love. “We can’t stay here. If we don’t get him to the shaman fast, he will die on Terra lands.”

“Please,” I whisper to the gods, the fates, anyone who will listen. “Please, Luc.” The howl that explodes from me is guttural, beastial, and so loud I’m sure the entire fucking world can hear it.

I gasp, tremble, and do it again.

“Fuck,” Arlo curses and grabs my shoulders. “Stop, Zander. Stop it now!”

For once in my damn life, I wish I had listened to my instincts, I wish I had let them swallow me whole.

I fought them for so long, insisted that I couldn’t be anything else if I let them rule me, and for what?

Where did that get me? In my naivety, I assumed everything would work out.

We’d save endless omegas, build a sanctuary, and have all the time in the world to complete our bond.

Gabe was right.

Fate put us on an unexpected path, and I loved where it took me. I want to stay on it, see where it goes, and I can’t do that if I let Lucan die.

Pulling myself together, I climb off his body and let the two alphas with me pick him off the ground. We start moving again.

Weakness isn't measured by the tears I’m shedding but only by the willingness to do nothing. And I am unfuckingwilling. We go north until whatever twisted shit the fates have planned for us reveals itself, and we don’t stop.

“He’ll survive,” Oberon says through a strained grunt. “He won’t leave you.”

I nod stiffly and wipe my face.

About ten minutes later, we reach a clearing and an abandoned forest ranger truck.

Like a spotlight is cast over the gunmetal exterior, a collective gasp bounces off the three of us.

I sprint to it, rip open the driver's side door, and look for keys.

Sure enough, a spare set sits in the sunvisor.

A relieved whimper squeaks out while I shove them into the ignition and turn it over.

Rumbling to life, the truck starts without a hitch.

It takes no time at all to load Lucan in the truck bed, and I climb into it with him, settling his limp head in my lap. I band my arms around his chest, sending a fucking thank you to the gods, and watch this fucked up place whizz by.

At some point, the truck skids to a stop, sending me jerking forward. My head clashes with the back window, and Lucan groans. It’s the first noise he’s made in easily an hour. I gasp, glance down at him, and see his brows furrow.

“Luc?”

A thud hits the truck, and I yelp, wrapping my legs around Lucan’s body to protect him.

As I whip my head in the direction of the noise, I catch a familiar scent.

Buzzed, red hair appears in my peripheral, followed by a gaunt frame and blood splattered all over his freckled cheeks.

My heart double-kicks in my chest seeing Seamus in one piece.

The blood coating his face and hands isn’t his. And he’s stark naked.

“Seamus!”

He glances at me, his dark eyes struggling to focus.

Then he smiles. The alphas inside the truck holler at him to climb in, and he does quickly.

I make it a point not to look below his waist, but it’s hard when cock and balls are right in your line of sight.

Hunkering down in the truck, he grips the sides and pants as if he’s been running for miles. He probably has.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, resuming my petting of Lucan’s hair.

Seamus shakes his head and covers his crotch.

I’m still wearing the shirt he loaned me earlier, so I hurry to take it off and hand it over.

Seamus nods in thanks and slips it on. He’s taller than me, but with some tugging, he manages to hide his unmentionables.

I let him sit for a few minutes, studying how he twitches and seems thoroughly unsettled by the truck moving.

Now that we are in better light, I notice a brand on his neck, right beneath his left ear.

The number nine.

Gods, what the hell happened to him?

I feel so guilty about leaving him behind, but we couldn’t wait. We couldn’t. Like he knows that’s what I’m thinking, the male shakily places a hand on my leg and squeezes.

“You’re here now,” I whisper. “That’s what matters.”

He doesn’t grunt or acknowledge my words, just closes his eyes.

Endless howls and whines greet us when we finally make it back to the Kato Clan.

These wolves mourn for their kin. The shame I feel is so potent that it almost makes me pause everything to offer them comfort.

After all, isn’t that an omega’s job? To soothe and provide healing energy during tough times?

But I can’t. I have to ignore them. I have to put aside their questions, angry bellows demanding to know where the rest of our troupe are.

Lucan is all that matters.

The guilt can wait. It can all fucking wait.

Seamus is given the blanket we found in the cab of the truck, and he secures it around his waist before hauling Lucan into his arms like he weighs nothing.

It’s obvious something is very different about the wolf, but like everything else, it’s falling onto the back burner.

We weave through the crowd, urgently moving in the direction of the shaman’s house.

I open the door, and find her expecting us. Her kitchen table is in her living room, the couches shoved to the walls, and Gabe is sobbing into Griffin’s chest. Don’t ask. Just move. I show Seamus where to lay Lucan down, and help him get Lucan’s shirt off.

“Upstairs in my spare bedroom are some clothes. Go get yourself cleaned up,” Morgana tells Seamus. He blinks at her. “Now, pet. You reek of dead animal.”

“It’s okay,” I soothe. “Do what she says.”

He scratches at his bloody cheek, then licks his dirty finger. Hesitating only a few more seconds, he whimpers at me and goes upstairs. Now that I’m fully looking at Lucan, his wound on display since he’s on his side, I have to cover my mouth to stifle my cry.

“Will he be okay?” I manage to ask.

Morgana hums, stalks the perimeter of the table, and takes in every inch of him. The thump of her cane along the wood floor only adds to heightening my anxiety. I sneak a quick peek at Gabe, who holds his pregnant belly and looks at me with a storm cloud of sympathy.

“Griffin, hand me my bones.”

“Bones?” I bark. “Morgana, he’s fucking dying! We don’t have time for—”

Her milky eye moves independently from the other, staring at me and shutting me up.

With a whispered, Here you go , Griffin hands her the bowl of bones and returns to Gabe’s side. I watch, horrified, as she takes a pestle and grinds up the chicken bones into dust. Then, she hobbles over to me and presents the bowl. “Spit.”

“Spit?” I gawk, scrunching up my nose.

Again, that fucking eyeball stays locked on me. I shudder and gather the minimal saliva in my mouth. It’s far too little, I'm sure, but some spit hits the dust. “Now your blood.”

“My blood?”

Her hand moves lightning fast, one of her claws slicing at my wrist. Blood swells from the cut, and she snatches the limb to make sure the droplets land in her bowl. “And last, your tears.”

At least those are locked and loaded. All I have to do is think about a world without Lucan in it, and they fall freely. Her bony finger gently swipes them off my face and flicks the salty water into the mixture. “The essence of one’s fated acts as a healing serum. Did you know that?”

She swirls the pestle around, creating a paste. “What about the chicken bones?”

Shrugging, she swipes up some with a finger and applies it to the black, pus-ridden wound on Lucan’s shoulder. “It’s a good base for mixing the solution. Tastes good too.”

I pale a little, wondering if she’s going to lick the stuff, but she doesn’t. “How long does it take to work?”

“Depends,” she murmurs, applying the last of the paste. “But no more than a few days.”

“Days?!”

“Magic isn’t instant, you know. Be thankful you are his fated, otherwise this polluted silver would be unstoppable.”

“Granny,” Gabe whimpers. “It’s polluted?”

“Yes, pet,” she coos. “It’s been a long time since someone braved this concoction.”

Satisfied with her handiwork, she leaves Lucan’s side, and I inch forward, slipping my hand in his.

The skin of his palm already feels warmer.

Unable to resist, I lean down and kiss his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and then his damp forehead.

A thousand questions run unchecked in my skull, but I ignore them, solely focused on keeping a physical connection with my alpha.

However long it takes, I’m not leaving his side.

Hours or days.

I’ll be right here.