Page 16 of Donovan

“What happened?” Donovan demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stay lucid. Every nerve in my body screamed, my muscles twitching with something unnatural.

The hunger was there now, gnawing, insistent, wrong. But I forced it down.

“I—” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. I swallowed hard, tasting blood. “I tracked Asher and Gael. Went after them. I think Gael killed Asher.”

A sharp breath on the other end. “And?”

I clenched my jaw.Keep talking, Declan.

“Gael took out my whole team,” I admitted, hating how weak I sounded.

Then, a low curse. I could picture Donovan now—his fingers curled into fists, his jaw tight, that familiar anger flashing in his eyes. I should’ve stopped there.

Should’ve spared him what came next, but I couldn’t. He needed to know.

“Gael didn’t kill me,” I continued, each word a struggle. My vision blurred. The edges of my world flickered between light and shadow. “But I wished he did.”

Another pause. Then softer this time, “Declan…”

I ignored it. If I stopped now, I wouldn’t get the rest out.

“A rabid vampire must’ve scented my blood,” I rasped, fingers tightening around my phone like it was the only thing tetheringme to reality. “It wasn’t like Gael. It was feral. Starving. I fought, but?—”

I faltered.

A sharp inhale from Donovan. “But what?”

I exhaled shakily, my body betraying me, the fever spiking. “I wasn’t fast enough,” I admitted. Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

Then Donovan’s voice came, tight with barely controlled panic. “You’re saying?—”

“I was bitten.”

Three words.

That was all it took. I heard the way his breath hitched, the moment his world cracked apart.

“No,” Donovan whispered.

“Donovan,” I whispered, my strength slipping fast. “You need to listen to me.”

“No, shut up.” His voice shook with something raw. Something desperate. “You’re gonna hold on, you hear me? You’re not turning, Declan. I won’t let you.”

I almost laughed at that. As if he had any power over this. Over fate.

“I need you to do something for me,” I said instead.

“What, Declan?”

“If I lose control?—”

“Don’t,” Donovan began.

“I need you to end it,” I finished.

“No!” The word came out broken this time.