Page 33 of Pack Scratch Fever

PIPER

Nightmares plague me.

I’m late for my shift at the rescue.

I try to drive there, but the parking lot is gone, replaced by a three-story parking garage.

Confused, I grab my ticket to enter the garage and park on the top floor.

Not bothering with the elevator, I take the stairs down to the main level and hurry to the run-down shopping center…

And run straight into a coffee shop franchise.

Blair stands behind the counter, her hair pulled into a bun and an apron tied to her waist.

“Where are the cats?” I demand.

She tilts her head curiously. “We don’t have cats here. Only overpriced coffee.”

I’m dreaming. This is a dream.

I can control my own dreams.

“Poe, Maddox, and Avery don’t like cats,” Blair continues, her voice garbled. “Why would they help you?”

I need to get out of here.

I turn around to head out of the building, but an iron gate rolls down from the ceiling and crashes to the floor, locking me in.

“You have to pay your parents back,” Blair says, her voice monotone. “And be a good Omega. A good daughter.”

“WHERE ARE THE CATS, BLAIR?”

The lights go out in the coffee shop, and I’m shrouded in darkness, erasing Blair.

Wake up, Piper.

Wake up.

A spotlight shines on the floor, filling my vision.

I’m frozen in place as my one-night stand steps into the light, holding Mister Whiskers in his arms.

I can’t even remember his name.

“Everyone who ever cared about you was wrong.” His voice is distorted as Mister Whiskers just stares at me, his scrunched-up face eyeing me disapprovingly. “You are everyone’s last choice, and nobody’s first.”

Then, Mister Whiskers reaches out and swipes me on the cheek with his paw, his claws catching on my skin and drawing blood.

He does it again.

And again.

“Wake up, Piper!” Mister Whiskers cries in a high-pitched voice.

“Wake up!”

The light extinguishes, but the swipes still continue.

My cheeks sting, and my shoulders shake.

“Piper, please!”

Water splashes on my face, and I sit up with a start, droplets rolling down my cheeks.

I meet Blair’s terrified face. She’s kneeling on the floor next to my mattress, towering over me, her lips slightly parted.

“What the hell?” I croak, and fire burns my throat. I try to tilt my head toward her, but a sharp ache slices through my neck.

Blair rummages something out of the plastic grocery bag next to her. “Open your mouth.”

Without arguing, I do. She shoves a thermometer under my tongue, then yanks the blankets off me, grabbing the hand with the scratch.

The thermometer beeps just as she rips the bandage off.

I don’t have the energy to yell. I just let out a groan, and the thermometer drops out of my mouth and onto my blanket.

“What the fuck , Piper! This is infected!” Blair yells, then grabs the thermometer and reads it. “And you have a fever. A high one.”

I yank my hand away. “S’fine,” I slur. “I want to sleep.”

I manage to move my head a little and observe the scratch. It’s still red, but the concerning part is the little blisters of fluid that have formed around it.

“Oh,” I mumble. “That doesn’t look good.”

“Piper, this looks awful . Does it hurt to move your neck?”

“Kind of.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her sweet violet scent has turned smoky and ashy with distress. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

I try to shake my head but fail. “That’s dramatic. I just want to sleep. Why aren’t you at the coffee shop?”

Blair places a hand on my forehead. “ What ?”

“Your shift. You were in an apron.” I start to close my eyes, and Blair taps my cheek.

“Don’t you dare go back to sleep on me.” Her voice breaks. “You have to stay awake.”

“No.”

But Blair grips my arm, forcing me to stay sitting upright while she talks to emergency services.

I hear bits and pieces of her conversation, but I’m half asleep.

I can’t concentrate on anything except my headache and stiff neck.

All I want is to go back to sleep.

That way, I won’t have to remember Poe, Avery, Maddox, or anything else that matters to me.

Blair keeps poking and prodding me every time I’m close to falling fully asleep, though. She even throws water at me at one point, soaking my shirt again.

“Stay. Awake,” she growls.

More voices fill my bedroom, and I catch a whiff of orange and cloves.

Alphas.

But it’s not my Alphas that are speaking to Blair.

My Alphas aren’t placing me onto a stretcher and loading me into an ambulance.

That’s the last thought I have before I finally drift off to sleep, sirens echoing in my mind.

My hospital room is nice.

I’m attached to a bunch of different cords, which is irritating, yet the bed is much comfier than the mattress in my apartment.

Constant beeps fill my ears, but whatever medicine they hooked into my IV helps keep me comfortable and unbothered.

I have a spacious room to myself, which includes a bathroom in the opposite corner. Blair sits on a floral sofa to my right, wringing her hands. Her purse is on the small plastic table in front of her.

“Are you awake finally?” she asks.

I keep my eyes half open due to the brightness of the fluorescent lights. “I’ve been awake. We’ve been talking.”

“You haven’t said one word since we were at your apartment,” she says slowly. “You’re likely having hallucinations and brain fog from the infection.”

When I stare at Blair blankly, she motions to me. “Your hand. They think you had cat scratch fever, and that the wound got infected.

I blink. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” Blair walks over and perches at the edge of my hospital bed.

“It makes sense. You were under stress, and apparently your suppressant brand can weaken your immune system. I brought your prescription bottle to show the doctor.” She leans over and presses the red button on the remote that sits on top of the blankets.

“They’ll tell you more once they come in.

But you’re staying in here for a while.”

I frown. “Like, for a day?”

My best friend scoffs. “You went septic.”

“Okay, so I’ll be out tomorrow then? I can’t take this much time off.”

“Piper!” Blair snaps, her eyes watery. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” her voice cracks. “If I hadn’t come over…”

Through my brain fog, Blair’s words finally resonate.

I was sick. Very, very sick.

“I’m sorry,” I say simply, but Blair begins to weep softy.

“If I had waited another day…”

Her beautiful face crumples, and I lie in my hospital bed, helpless as my friend cries.

I hesitantly reach my hand out from under the blankets and place it over hers.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m okay now. I’m with the right people; they’re going to help me and make me better.”

Blair has had a hard time in hospitals ever since her ex-pack was in the car accident.

It means the world to me that she’s here.

She sniffs and nods. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I know. Just don’t ever do this again.”

“I don’t think I could repeat this if I tried.”

“I don’t either,” a third voice says, and the doctor walks in, giving me a polite smile. She’s an Omega that smells like raspberries and roses, and I instantly like her. Her kind brown eyes meet mine, and I know I’m in good hands.

“Well, Miss Rhodes, are you ready to discuss your diagnosis? I looked at your chart, and it’s a bit complicated.” She motions to Blair. “You’re family?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Alright. Let’s go over it then. You have an infection from a cat bite, and cat scratch fever,” the doctor concludes.

“You’re staying with us until we have your medication sorted, and the infection is gone.

The antibiotics should knock it out soon, but you’ll probably be here a few days.

Let’s also get you onto some new suppressants; the ones you’re on can compromise your immune system and aren’t ideal for long-term use. ”

“My physician didn’t tell me that,” I admit.

I didn’t read the side effects at all. When I talked to my doctor, I was doing it just to appease Blair and not caring about my wellbeing.

I was punishing myself again.

“Based on what I see, you were not taking your other suppressants as stated,” she responds, and I sense Blair glaring at me out of the corner of my eye.

“You can’t be abusing suppressants unless you want unforeseen circumstances like this.

The suppressants you were on were meant to get your Heat back on track, but at the cost of being susceptible to infections.

We’re going to switch you to a milder prescription. ”

I nod. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back to talk to you in the morning, but I’ll be looking at your updated bloodwork throughout the evening. Have a good night, Miss Rhodes, and be grateful that this didn’t turn into something worse.”

Once the doctor leaves, I reach to the bedside table for water.

“This place is great,” Blair says. “They even have extra nesting blankets for you in that drawer over there, in case you were in Heat. This doctor specializes in Omega care, too.”

But now that my brain isn’t as fuzzy, worries plague me. “Who all knows?” I ask her, and her face falls.

“Only me, for now.”

“You didn’t tell…” I can’t even say their names.

“Do you want me to tell them?” she asks gently. “I can only avoid them for so long. They know you’re sick, but they don’t know you’re here.”

I swallow. “What do you think?” I ask.

Blair sighs. “Honestly?”

I nod.

“I think they should know. They still care about you greatly. I mean, I know you don’t want me to say this, but…”

“Just say it.”

“I think they love you, Piper.”

The heart monitor increases the pace of its beeps.

“That doesn’t change anything,” I murmur, my stomach twisting.

“I know,” Blair replies. “But I think they should know. Can I tell them?”

I meet my friend’s eyes and nod slowly. “Okay.”

“And if they want to visit?”

My instinct is to say no, that it’s already more than enough that I’m allowing them to know anything about my life anymore.

But my inner Omega pleads for mercy.

We have to see them just once. Just scent them one more time.

“Then it can be a proper goodbye,” I say. “A clean break, and a clean slate.”

Blair is skeptical, but she doesn’t argue. “Alright.”

“Speaking of,” I add, clearing my throat. Somehow, tears have formed in my eyes. “How are the cats?—”

“Everything is fine, Piper. Everyone is stepping up. Including them.”

It takes me a moment to understand what Blair means. “What?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My heart monitor’s pace increases, and Blair’s eyes flick to it worriedly.

“Yes, they’ve been helping, more than I thought possible. They know they messed up. But I also know how stubborn you are and told them that this may not win you back. They care about the cats, Piper. They do .”

A tear slides down my cheek, and I sniffle. “Yeah. I guess you can tell them, then,” I huff. “But you don’t need to tell them in the middle of the night. Just wait until tomorrow.”

I don’t want to deal with anything right now, especially the emotions that I’m trying so desperately to keep in check.

“I will.” She stands and heads to the table, grabbing her purse. “I’ll be back soon, but I need to check on the cats first.”

“Oh! Can you bring my laptop then? I want to look at potential rental spaces and post on our socials.”

She furrows her brow. “No. Go to sleep. No working until this infection is out of your body.”

If only it were that easy. I haven’t been able to look over the contract my mother emailed me, update our social media, or check in with the other rescues we partner with.

There’s a ton to do, and I’m behind on all of it.

“I’m not tired,” I argue, but Blair stops at the door to my room.

“Your immune system is worn down, and your body is weak,” she says flatly. “You’re resting, or I’m sending Mari here to yell at you.”

I grimace.

Not wanting to face Mari’s wrath, I recline in my bed and try to relax.

But thoughts of Poe, Maddox, and Avery fill my head.

What will I say to them if they come visit?

I thought I could say goodbye to them here, but if they’re volunteering at the rescue, how can I avoid them?

It would be easier never to see them again and forget about all the time we had together.

But my inner Omega is in despair.

We can’t turn them away. They’re our scent matches.

We need them.

That’s not true.

I don’t need anyone—I’m happy I have people to care about, but I never want to need someone ever again.

But even that thought doesn’t seem right anymore.

I’m battling a war in my head when a woman in scrubs walks in, giving me a bright smile.

She’s an older Omega with grey hair tossed into a messy ponytail and a sweet, warm scent of cinnamon rolls.

“Miss Rhodes,” she says cheerfully, heading to the computer on the small table next to me, “I’m here to go over some information, and see if it needs to be updated.

First, we already reached out to your emergency contact, since you were unable to communicate.

Is there someone else we should call besides Joseph Rhodes? ”

My blood runs cold.

I hadn’t bothered to update my medical record in years, and because of that, they contacted my father.

He will inevitably tell my mother what happened, which means they will come to see me.

They might even be on their way.