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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

LEO

I have to lift Nakoa into my arms like I usually do our omega, and how thin he is hits me with a wall of dread.

Weak, injured, and potentially poisoned.

This is the worst thing that could’ve happened to our pack outside of Grace being killed or wounded.

Nakoa is our rock, our guiding star. We can’t lose our pack leader.

But I can feel him slipping away in my arms.

Wounded. Poisoned. Merciful.

Those three words rattle around my head as Raphael grabs Grace’s hand and dashes into the forest with me not far behind.

She refuses to be carried, carrying her weight as she puts it, by bringing as many supplies as she can carry.

Our ship is gone, and we were only able to save two packs of food and weapons.

But it’s better than the alternative, so I’m thankful.

Hot and flustered. Yeah?

I try to joke, but his smile is weak.

Wounded. Poisoned. Be merciful.

Memories I had mistaken as visions float to the surface of my mind.

I can feel and taste a cloth in my mouth pressing down.

The day my father decided it would be better for our pack to be dead than leave the island.

I shudder all over, reliving that day over and over again.

When Raphael is out of earshot and Grace closes her eyes long enough to rest, I draw Nakoa closer to me.

One decade. Ten years. Ten and eighteen.

I’ve known him for half of my life. I often feel like a fraud, but then I remind myself that I was worthy enough to be a part of Nakoa’s pack, the strongest man I know, and feel reassured.

But now, I feel untethered, and I don’t have anyone or anything to bring me back to earth.

Nakoa’s dry lips part, and he murmurs something too faint for me to hear. I press my ear against his lips and listen intently. When I fully process his words, I nearly drop him from the shock.

“Kill… me….”

My heart beat screeches to a halt, unable to accept what he said.

“Show mercy. Keep our baby safe. Kill me, please,” he says more forcefully after wetting his lips a few more times.

“It’s not that bad,” I insist, because I won’t do it, and because it’s not. Not yet anyway. “Stop talking like that and focus on recovering.

It hurts more than breaking an arm from a failed cliff climb, or a knife to the back. I’m sure that’s what that poisoned bullet feels like. But Nakoa has survived both. He’s come back stronger. Healed all wrong and broken, but healed nonetheless. He will survive this.

“We can use the plants as medicine after we extract the bullet,” I say, not believing my lies. We don’t have the tools or the knowledge to do either. I can set a bone, wrap a cut, and cleanse a wound. I can’t yank out a bullet or cure whatever is coursing through his veins.

“On the part of Providence, we recognize. Look around you, Leo. Doesn’t it all look so strange?” Nakoa says weakly.

I don’t respond for a while, because he’s right.

Bullets? Big trucks armed with machine guns?

Electrified fences? Nothing about the South is what it should be, like the Stone Age up North.

And worst of all, I’m starting to question everything I’ve ever assumed about this place.

What mysteries haven’t we untangled in ten fucking years!

? Raphael used to joke that we’re lab rats in one long experiment.

Maybe he was closer to the truth than he could ever imagine.

“Don’t give up. As soon as you get back up, you can fight. It doesn’t matter what you look like after, as long as you get up. Isn’t that what you always told me,” I beg.

“We’ll protect you,” I promise, though it’s probably empty since we failed already.

“And Grace?” he asks.

“What about her?” I shoot back, tone too sharp and bitter, like a dog lashing out before an attack.

“They were targeting her. Like they knew she was there. Who shoots at a pregnant omega?” he asks.

“You’re delirious,” and out of every word I’ve said, I believe this with absolute certainty.

“And you weren’t there,” he whispers as I wipe his sweaty forehead with the bottom of my shirt.

His meaning feels deeper, and my rage boils over. I welcome it if only to stave off despair.

“I would have, but we were trying to save the boat,” I grit out.

“I’m not accusing you. I’m saying I wasn’t delirious when I blocked a bullet intended for Grace’s head,” Nakoa tries to shout back, but his voice is faint.

“We’ll find them. We’ll make them pay. Together.

“I knew I’d have to pay the price for beating death back then,” Nakoa says, a feverish haze overtaking his features.

“Shut the fuck up! That sanctimonious bullshit didn’t save us back then and it won’t save us now,” I shout, starling Grace who whimpers in her fitful sleep. I reach over and stroke her hair, and she grows silent.

“You’re right. But all that anger won’t save me either. Not now. I can feel it. It’s like the cliff but worse because my mother’s dead,” he says.

Coldness fills me and numbs me from the shock of his words. Because deep down inside, I know he’s right. There’s no one and nothing that can save him on this cursed island.

“I wanted to see her,” he whispers, voice breaking. “Just once, I wanted to hold her.”

“Her?” I ask.

He looks up at me, and the dam breaks, tears in his hooded eyes, “Our daughter. In my dreams, she was so beautiful. She had Grace’s eyes, and your face full of freckles, my skin, and curly black hair. But especially your shit eating grin.”

Nakoa starts hacking, and I rub his back through the pain,

“Don’t let her die because I was weak,” he begs, tone feverish.

“You’re not weak–” he cuts me off.

“Just because I lost,” he doesn’t stop, delirium overtaking him.

“We’re getting off this island. We are. Together. Just hang on,:

“Bury me facing north, towards my home… Please, Leo,” he closes his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Wounded.

Be merciful.

Poisoned.

Be merciful.

Infected.

Be merciful.

Leader.

Be merciful.

Best friend.

Be merciful.

Brother.

“Be merciful, Leo. Kill me,” Nakoa begs.

“No,” I whisper, unsheathing my blade and holding it towards the fire until it’s hot like a brand. “You should know by now I’m a bastard through and through. Now clench your fucking teeth alpha, and live.”

If I can’t cut the diseased flesh out, at least I’ll seal the bleeding wound.

I press it to his abdomen, and Nakoa makes a sound I’ve never heard him make before—he whimpers like a baby.

Intense dread pricks at my skin like a thousand needles, and water…

tears pool in my eyes. I’m crying through it, and Grace starts to wake up again.

But I can’t comfort her, letting her soothe herself through the sounds of Nakoa’s agony, as she covers her ears and pretends it’s all just a dream.

I’m sobbing when Raphael gets back, who drops all the kindling and the fruit he’s forged. He slumps in front of Nakoa, who has fainted in my arms. He hugs me, pressing his forehead to mine. And then he curls up beside Grace, still awake, waiting, watching for another attack.

And I do too, ready to tear any motherfucking wolf who dares to harm my pack again.