Page 34 of Running with the Alpha’s Son (The Alpha’s Son #3)

Jasper’s blood covers my hands. There’s so much of it, pouring out of him, staining my shirt, my jeans. His body is heavy in my lap. I hold him tightly, trying to support his head, which he can no longer hold up on his own. His eyes are halfway shut, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain. His breaths are short and shallow. His face is ghostly pale.

“Jasper, hold on,” I say. “The ambulance is on its way.”

I don’t know how I managed to speak calmly enough to the emergency services operator to get an ambulance here but somehow, maybe before the shock set in, I was able to. My phone lies beside me now, the screen smeared in red.

“Please, don’t die,” I whisper into Jasper’s hair as I clutch his head to my chest. “Do you hear me? You’re not allowed to die.”

In my arms Jasper tenses, he struggles to keep his eyes open, looking around like he’s having trouble focusing. Then finally his gaze lands on my face and he almost smiles…almost. With a shaking hand he tries to touch my face, like he needs confirmation I’m really here.

“M-Ma…”

He starts to say my name but can’t get it out before he convulses in pain. His eyes slam shut. His body judders, tenses then relaxes, and he drops limply. His head falls back and his eyes close.

“Jasper?” I try to shake him gently, just enough to keep him here, awake—alive. “Jasper, no! Jasper, please!”

The hand he reached for my face with falls sideways, hitting the road. I rake my fingers over his cheeks.

“Jasp, wake up. You have to wake up.”

He doesn’t respond.

“No.”

There’s so much blood. It’s in his hair, slicking the strands of midnight black together. It’s on his perfect, pale-freckled cheeks. It’s drenched his clothes and stained the pavement.

“NO!”

As all hope seems to drain from me, I hear the faint wail of sirens. Eventually the street becomes lit in flashing red and blue.

I barely notice as the paramedics haul me to my feet and go to work on Jasper.

All I can think about is the blood that’s seeped into my clothes.

So much blood.

So much…

Someone should have been here by now.

I sit alone on one of the cold plastic chairs lining the hospital corridor. Nurses and doctors whoosh past, off to save lives.

Have they saved his yet?

Where is everyone?

The sterile smell of disinfectant cloaks all manner of human maladies. But not well enough that I can’t distinguish the stink of illness and death.

A woman wheels an old man in a plaid dressing gown by in a wheelchair, he’s hooked up to an IV that drags along beside him. The doors at the end of the corridor are thrown open, slamming as they hit the walls, and a gurney is pushed through carrying another patient. The white hospital sheets are stained pink.

I look down at my hands. Jasper’s blood has dried and is beginning to crack.

I should go get cleaned up.

They told me he could be in surgery for a while.

I should get cleaned up, I don’t want to be a mess when he wakes up.

If he…

Where is everyone? Why hasn’t anyone else come yet?

I called his dad. I called Aisha and Melissa. I called my parents.

Someone should have been here by now.

“Max?”

From some far-off place I hear my name.

“Max?”

I hear it again and am able to pull my attention to the blurred figure in front of me. My tired eyes take a moment to adjust and then all of a sudden the world comes rushing back. The beeps of heart monitors, the wheels of gurneys, the doors, the nurses at their station, the clunk of a can hitting the drawer of a vending machine. I haven’t moved since they plonked me on a chair in this hallway. Blood still stains my clothes, only now it’s hard and sticky. In front of me is a large dark figure, slowly coming into focus.

“Max, are you okay?”

The resonant boom of the alpha’s voice pulls me back to reality.

“Jericho?” I ask, sounding like I haven’t spoken in a thousand years.

“Yes, son. It’s me.” Jericho’s face looms too large in my vision, his voice is loud and stings my eardrums. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I came as fast as I could. Are you okay?”

I pick at a piece of dried blood, watching as it flakes away and falls to the ground.

“Yes—I—I’m sorry, I should have gotten cleaned up—I…” It suddenly occurs to me I have no idea what time it is. “What’s happening?” I ask, eyes suddenly wide, struggling to my feet despite my aching, numb limbs. “Is he out yet? Is he…?”

Jericho steadies me with his large hands and holds me in place. “I just spoke with the nurses. He’s still in surgery. The internal bleeding is bad and there is damage to his organs. They’re doing everything they can.”

“He’s not—they’re still—” I can’t seem to finish a sentence or form a complete thought. “Is he—?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Jericho says. “And I know you’re shaken but I need to ask you some questions.”

“Questions?” I shake my bewildered head.

“Yes, Max. We need to know what happened. But”—Jericho glances in both directions—“not here. Can you walk?”

I have no idea but I nod anyway. “Uh-huh.”

Jericho keeps his sturdy arm around me as he leads me to an empty room, flicks on the light, and closes the door behind us. A hospital bed sits unmade in the center, the monitors to the side switched off, the wires hanging loose, not attached to anything. I wonder whether or not the last person to use that bed got better.

“Max?” Jericho asks, coming to face me.

“Whose room is this?”

A confused flash crosses Jericho’s face. “I need you to concentrate,” he says, once again placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “Tell me everything you remember.”

The gunman appears in my vision, darting from the shadows, the sound of the shot reverberates in my ears, my heart breaks at Jasper’s face as he falls into the road. I clutch my chest and stumble backward. Jericho catches me.

“Max, I know it’s hard. But it’s important we catch the person responsible for this.”

“Responsible?”

The word is familiar but my addled brain can’t quite compute. Is the gunman responsible? Walter? Or is it Omar for what he did? Jasper for helping me break him out of jail? Or is it me? Did I do this to Jasper? Is that why he’s left me? Why he’s…

“Max, who did this? Who shot Jasper?”

My eyes shoot to Jericho’s and suddenly I feel a sense of clarity dawning. There is only one person responsible for this and I want to see him ended.

“Walter,” I say. “Walter Bridgers did this. He hired someone to shoot Jasper. We thought he was planning to kill Omar because he knew what Walter did, because he was the one who hired the rogues to attack the packhouse, but we were wrong. He wanted to kill Jasper because he wants to take your place.”

My sudden verboseness must shock Jericho because he takes his hands away from me and studies my face carefully.

“That is a grave accusation, Max. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say as firmly as I can despite my shaking right leg and trembling hands. “He hired a rogue to shoot Jasper. He’s been going behind your back and corrupting the aligned packs against you.”

“If this is true then we may be in bigger trouble than I thought.” He pulls out his phone and hits some buttons. “Salazar, we need to speak. Meet me at the packhouse as soon as you get this.”

He pockets his phone and eyes the door.

“You’re leaving?” I ask. “What’s wrong with you? Your son is dying and you’re still wrapped up thinking about the pack? How can you care about any of that now? How could you?”

Jericho levels me with an intense stare. “I understand your concern, Max. But if I don’t act now we could be ruined. If there’s one thing I can do for Jasper, it’s to make damn sure there’s still a pack for him to return to when he wakes up.”

“ If he wakes up!”

He grits his teeth as if he’s fighting the same doubts as me but is too scared to let it show.

“My son is an Apollo,” Jericho says. “It will take more than a single gunshot to take him down. I’ve instructed the nurses to notify me when Jasper’s condition changes. Until then I need to see to business.”

He moves to step past me as my lip quivers uncontrollably.

“Thank you,” he says when he reaches my side. He won’t look at me and I won’t look at him. “For what you’ve done for my son. I’m sorry you have to go through this. Is there…do you have anyone coming to keep you company?”

“Just go,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

His hand lands on my shoulder one more time and I don’t sluff it off, I let it lie there, futile, pointless, until he leaves.

When Jericho is gone I stagger back to the corridor. Some kid is sitting in my seat reading a book, swinging his feet that don’t reach the floor. His dad is next to him clicking away on his phone.

While I’m staring at this guy my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see Aisha is FaceTiming me.

“Hey,” she says, puffing like she’s out of breath, the city bouncing behind her as she walks. “How is he?”

“I don’t know, he’s—he’s still in surgery.”

“Shit. Look, I’m on my way. The subway is a mess though, delays and weekend closures, and…ah!” Aisha turns to call after the moron who bumped into her. “Watch it!” She turns back to the camera, shaking her head. “Some people. Anyway, whatever, I jumped off the train but I’m still downtown. I’m trying to get a cab but it’s a ghost town out here tonight.”

Hearing this is almost too much for me to bear. I lean, basically fall, onto the wall behind me, rubbing my stinging eyes.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay, kid? Can you hold on for me?”

“We thought we could just run away and avoid all this,” I say, unable to hold back the torrent of tears.

“I know, sweety.”

“I thought things were going to get better when we came back. I thought it would be different.”

“I know. I know. It’s going to be all right though. He’s tough. He’ll pull through.”

I stare into my phone screen, letting the tears drip off my chin. “We were just…after everything…we were just figuring things out, you know?”

“Yeah? That’s great.”

“We were finally on the same page and now…”

“What, sweety?”

“What if he’s…? What if he…?”

“He won’t.”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

My knees give out and I slide down the wall until I’m bundled on the floor. People pass but I ignore them and their pitying glances.

“You’re strong, Maxie. You’re so strong. Whatever…” She pauses, whips a stray braid out of her face, and takes a breath. “Whatever happens…you’re going to be fine. You have me and Katie and your parents. And you’re strong, Maxie. But just…try to stay positive okay? Don’t count him out just yet.”

“There was so much blood.”

“I know.”

I wipe my face, which is all scrunched up and hot. Tears and snot come away with my hand.

“I just wish I could talk to him.”

“What would you say…?” she asks, but I can barely hear her over the static as the call starts breaking up. “Max—Maxie, what wo—would—you—ay?”

The calls drops out.

“Aisha?”

For a moment I stare at the blank screen wondering where she went, where she is. It’s well after midnight and I can’t quite seem to figure out where the time has gone. I’m not even sure when I arrived at the hospital in the ambulance, my hand clutching onto Jasper’s.

Over on the seats the kid has curled up in a ball with his head on his dad’s knee. Little guy must be tired. I don’t know what to do but I know Aisha was right, I shouldn’t give up just yet. I need to be strong.

Slowly, I press against the wall and straighten my legs until I’m back standing.

I don’t know where to go but I can’t just sit here any longer.

Behind the nurses’ station is the nurse I spoke to earlier. She’s flipping through some papers on a clipboard and marking them with a pen when I approach.

“Hi,” I say, sniffing to clear my blocked nose. “I was just wondering if there was any news about Jasper Apollo?”

She looks up with kind eyes, her head tilted to the side like an apology.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, and my heart freezes, I hold my breath. “He’s still in surgery.” I exhale as my blood starts pumping once more. “It could be awhile. I’ll let you know the second I have some news. Are you here by yourself? Do you need me to call anyone?”

“No, that’s fine,” I say, turning away. There’s only one person I want to speak to anyway. “Thanks.”

Without knowing where I’m going, I take off walking.

The moon is hanging low in the sky, almost like it’s in mourning. But that’s ridiculous and a little preemptive, I try to remind myself.

Somehow, I’ve ended up on the roof of the hospital. My aimless wandering led me to a set of stairs and now this. Manhattan stretches out on all sides, strangely quiet. I guess maybe the city does sleep sometimes.

It might just be me, maybe my eyes are tired and blurred from crying and staring, but the moon seems like it has a reddish hue at the edges.

“Are you watching?!” I cry at the waning crescent. “Did you know this was going to happen? Huh?”

The moon is silent. If Selene is up there watching, she’s not talking back. Not this time.

“Why didn’t you stop this?! You could have stopped this!”

The blinking lights of a plane pass by, the passengers unaware of the teen werewolf hollering at the moon.

“You can save him, right?” I continue pointlessly. “Please!” Nothing. “ PLEASE ! Save him!”

It’s not like I’m expecting the moon to talk or for Jasper to suddenly show up, magicked here out of thin air. But I can’t help thinking, What are the moon gods for if not to help us in times like these?

I wait anxiously, the cool evening helping to calm my anxious muscles, even though I know nothing is going to happen. Nothing is ever going to happen.

“Aren’t you listening?! Don’t you listen?”

I’m reminded of my own howl, piercing through my subconscious, trying to talk to me. My own wolf wailing in pain and how I ignored him for so long—how I didn’t even know he was calling until I was face-to-face with him.

I haven’t heard that howl since my moonwalk. Is that because we’re properly attuned now? One being moving through this plane and the next?

Or maybe I’ve been ignoring him still. If I were to access the lunar plane now, what would he say?

Then it hits me. I’ve been wandering around this hospital waiting for Jasper to wake up and reach out to me. I’ve been hoping for someone to come and save me, to bolster me up and keep me aloft. But I don’t need to wait for a call to answer. I am the call. And the response. And I have everything I need.

On the hard concrete roof I sit cross-legged with my hands resting on my knees, palms to the sky. Jasper and I haven’t managed to mind-link yet, but that was before, before everything we’ve been through, before everything we experienced at the Sanc, before we were seeing things eye to eye.

And maybe we aren’t quite there yet. Maybe we still have a ways to go. After all we’re different people, with different experiences and traumas and ideas and opinions. But if there’s any hope…

I close my eyes and reach out into the lunar consciousness, hoping and reaching and letting my guard down.

Concentrate. Connect.

Suddenly, I sense a presence, so calm and comforting and familiar.

I turn to him, and he speaks:

“Max?”