Page 33 of Anders (The Sunburst Pack #2)

Malcolm and Larissa exchanged a look, having one of their silent conversations that Anders had come to recognize as a function of their mate bond.

He wondered if he and Etta would develop that same wordless understanding, given time.

Time she might not have if they couldn’t find a way to remove the interface safely.

What exactly did you tell him? Anders asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

Only that we have a shifter with a neural implant causing progressive system failure, Nick assured him. No specifics about Etta’s condition or her connection to Chimera. That’s your information to share or withhold.

Anders nodded his thanks.

Will he come to us? Malcolm asked. Moving Etta again isn’t ideal, especially if Chimera finds a way to keep tracking the interface.

He’s arranging transport now, Nick confirmed. Should be here by late afternoon if all goes well. He’ll bring the equipment he needs.

And what does he want in return? Anders asked, the security officer in him unwilling to accept apparent altruism without question.

Nick’s expression sobered. Information. If Chimera is experimenting on shifters, the Moonstone Pack wants to know. They have their own young to protect.

It was a reasonable request, one that aligned with their own interests in exposing and stopping Chimera’s operations. Still, sharing intelligence with another pack, even one as allied with them as the Moonstone Pack, carried inherent risks.

We’ll provide what information we can, Malcolm decided, looking to Anders for confirmation. Limited to Chimera’s operations, nothing that compromises our pack’s security.

Anders nodded his agreement, though a part of him—the part that woke in cold sweats thinking of Etta’s pain—would have agreed to far more dangerous terms if it meant saving her life.

I should go back to her, he said, gathering his tablet. She’ll want to know what’s happening if she wakes.

Wait. Larissa’s voice stopped him. There’s something else we need to discuss.

The seriousness in her tone made Anders pause. What is it?

Malcolm met his gaze directly. The council will be concerned about the security risks of bringing in an outsider, even a doctor. Not everyone has the same…personal investment in Etta’s recovery that you do.

Anders felt his wolf rise closer to the surface, a growl building in his chest before he could suppress it. They’d rather let her die than risk—

No, Larissa interrupted firmly. No one is suggesting that. But there are legitimate concerns about what information might be shared, what vulnerabilities might be exposed.

I understand the concerns, Anders said carefully, forcing his wolf back.

The council will meet soon, Malcolm said. I’d like you to present the medical data and your security assessment. Answer their questions, address their concerns. Can you do that objectively?

It was as much a test as a request. Could he separate his personal feelings from his professional judgment? Could he be the head guardian and the mate simultaneously?

Yes, Anders said without hesitation. I can.

Whether it was true or not remained to be seen.

Good. Malcolm stood, signaling an end to the meeting.

Nick, stay in contact with Dr. Weiss. We need to know exactly when he’ll arrive and what equipment he’s bringing.

Anders— He paused, his expression softening slightly.

—keep us updated on Etta’s condition. And try to get some rest. You won’t help her by driving yourself into exhaustion.

The dismissal was clear. Anders nodded his acknowledgment to the alphas and left, his mind already racing through the preparations needed before Dr. Weiss’s arrival.

Security protocols would need adjustment to accommodate an outsider.

Medical facilities would need to be prepared.

And then there was Etta herself—how much to tell her, how to prepare her for what was coming.

The sun had fully risen by the time he reached his truck, casting long shadows across the desert landscape. Anders paused, his hand on the door handle, and allowed himself one moment of unguarded emotion.

Fear. Rage. Desperate hope. He let them wash through him, acknowledging each before carefully setting them aside.

Then he got into his truck and started the engine, his focus narrowing to the tasks ahead. He would prepare for Dr. Weiss’s arrival. He would do everything in his power to save Etta.

And if that wasn’t enough—if all their efforts failed—then he would ensure her last days were free from pain. He would stay with her until the end, holding her, reminding her who she truly was, not what Chimera had tried to make her.

The thought was almost unbearable, a knife-edge of grief so sharp he could barely breathe around it.

But Anders had always been practical, had always faced reality unflinchingly. It was what made him an effective guardian. So he did what he always did when faced with impossible odds—he formulated a plan, step by step, contingency by contingency.

First, tell Etta what they’d learned. She deserved the truth, however difficult.

Second, establish security protocols for Dr. Weiss’s arrival and stay.

Third, prepare for the council meeting. Gather the data, anticipate questions, develop countermeasures for objections.

Fourth, continue researching Chimera’s operations, looking for any additional information about the neural interface that might help with its removal.

Breaking the impossible into manageable tasks—it was how he’d survived his time in Special Forces, how he’d rebuilt the guardian position after Percy’s betrayal, how he’d maintained control when every instinct urged him to claim Etta the moment he recognized her as his mate.

It was how he would face the possibility of losing her.

A breath at a time, a step at a time, a heartbeat at a time.

The drive to his own cabin, where he’d left Etta, passed in a blur as Anders mentally prepared himself for the conversation ahead.

How did you tell someone they might have only days to live? How did you balance harsh truth with necessary hope?

He parked on the gravel outside and then walked toward the cabin.

Toward his mate.

Toward a future that hung by only the thinnest of threads.

There was no way to prepare for any of this, he realized.

And then he stepped inside.