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Wyatt

T he world tilts and blurs with a dizzying tornado of sensations and sounds that makes no sense. One moment, I'm face down in dirt and leaves, darkness sweeping over me, and the next, someone's shouting my name, a familiar voice clawing through the fog.

"Wyatt! Goddammit, wake up!"

Jax's face swims into focus, his features contorted with worry and anger. The forest spins around us, and I can't seem to remember how to make my body work right.

"You're not dying on my watch." He growls, and the memory of something, a movie, has me smiling, briefly, before another wave of pain washes any amusement away.

I gag, curled up in a ball, my fingers cramping into claws as I attempt to unfurl my body and roll onto my knees.

Next thing I know, a steely hand grips my chin and pulls my neck back, opening up my mouth.

“Fucking wolfsbane. Fucking cowards,” he mutters, then he's forcing something wet and warm between my lips, a bitter, burning liquid that makes me gag and thrash. It sears down my throat like lava, igniting every nerve ending along the way.

"Swallow," he commands, and somehow, despite the coughing and choking, I do. If I were strong enough, I’d fight him off, but right now, I’m weak as a kitten and at his total mercy.

The next few minutes, or maybe it’s hours, fragment into disjointed snapshots. Jax wraps something tight around my torso, cursing steadily under his breath and promising me vengeance against whoever did this. I’ll look forward to that if my wolf can dredge up enough energy to force the wolfsbane from my system.

“You need to get better, so we can fucking rip his head off,” he whispers, and for the first time, I hear every word, understanding the full sentence. My head feels lighter, the aches in my body lessening. “Or are you going to let him drag your mate back to his pack, forced to live in fear of the man who murdered her mate?”

My wolf growls. It’s faint and would barely frighten a puppy, but it’s there.

“You saw the present he gave her. He’s getting rid of you, so you can’t protect her.” Jax pauses before whispering with urgency, “The next challenge is a hunt, Wyatt. Old rules apply.”

No fucking way is he hunting my mate.

With nothing more than stubborn determination, I roll onto my front from my side and raise one knee up under my body. Even that small amount of movement saps my reserves, and I have to pause to steady myself.

“Stay still. Let me get this on.” Jax’s voice is calm, but I feel his worry. He might be trying to rile me up on purpose, but it’s working. I won’t leave her out there alone with Brad.

The sickly sweet smell of an ointment makes my nostrils burn, and my wolf howls in protest. There’s jarring pain as he hauls me to my feet, taking my weight when my legs refuse to cooperate.

"I should take you straight to the clinic," he says, his voice muffled and distant, as if coming from underwater.

"No," I croak, though I'm not sure if the sound is actually audible. "Competition first."

Jax’s fingers tighten on my arms as he helps me stay standing.

"Are you fucking insane?" Jax's voice rises. "You've been stabbed with a silver knife, laced with wolfsbane. You should be dead right now, Wyatt. And you would be if you weren’t so freakishly big."

The memory floats back, fragmented, but clear enough… Brad's smirk. Searing pain in my back and a knife in my hand, coated with something that smelled so wrong. Toxic.

That bastard tried to kill me. To get my mate.

"How'd you find me?" My words slur together, my tongue too thick for my mouth as I take a tentative step, my legs heavy and awkward.

"Scented you," Jax says tersely, adjusting his grip as we stumble forward through the trees. "Or rather, scented the blood. And the poison. Even though he tried to wash it off."

Lucky for me, Jax has a super sniffer. Best tracker around, according to Jamie, and thankfully, he doesn’t hate me as much as he does everyone else.

"Your heartbeat's all wrong," he adds after a moment, concern threading through his voice. "Maggie’s concoction is keeping you alive, but only just. I only had time to grab what I could see."

The bandage around my torso pulls with each movement, the ointment beneath it burning like acid against the wound. But it's a different burning than before, cleaner, the skin tightening and knitting back together rather than rotting and dying. It's fighting the poison rather than spreading it.

"What is it? That smell," I ask with a grimace, gesturing vaguely toward my back.

"Old recipe," Jax mutters. "Something from the fringes. For wolves with... problems. Like mine. Maggie’s been doing a lot of research, trying to help me." He doesn't elaborate, and I don't have the energy to press, but I’m impressed. I’m still alive, so he’s done something right.

We move in silence for a while, my weak grip on consciousness, all I can focus on. The mate bond is nothing more than a dull throb that seems to match my irregular heartbeat. I focus on it, use it to anchor myself to the present.

Naomi.

I need to get to Naomi.

The trees thin, and the distant murmur of voices reaches us. The competition. It's starting soon, and I can't miss it. Won't miss it. She’s close.

“Okay, we tell Dean what happened, then we go. He can deal with it.”

Definitely not. Brad is mine.

“Naomi won’t compete if she finds out. I just need to wait until the race starts, until she’s in the competition.”

She’s frantic with worry. I can feel her emotions clearer than my own.

"You can't be serious," Jax says when I try to straighten, to take more of my own weight. "You can barely stand. What you need is rest, not another challenge."

I appreciate his help, but he won’t talk me out of this. Brad might have taken me out of the competition, but he’s not ruining Naomi’s chances.

"And what's your plan, Wyatt? Collapse and die in front of everyone? Because that's what's going to happen if you try to compete like this."

My vision keeps swimming in and out of focus, and the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other requires all my concentration. But the thought of Brad's smug face if I give up, the certainty that he'd use my absence to target Naomi, is enough to keep me upright.

He’s not running me off again. I’m not a scared teen anymore.

"Help me get there or get out of my way," I say, forcing steel into my voice. “He is not hunting my mate.”

Jax stares at me like I've lost my mind, but something in my expression must convince him, because he sighs heavily before adjusting his grip on me.

"You’re an idiot," he mutters, but he moves again, guiding me toward the clearing. “Don’t mention the stab wound, or they won’t let you stay.”

Good point.

The scent of too many wolves in one place hits me as we break through the treeline, making my stomach roll with nausea. Through bleary vision, I can make out the gathered competitors at the starting line, the imposing forms of the alphas who will hunt them. One silhouette stands out to me, and my wolf snarls weakly at the sight of Brad among them, looking freshly showered and utterly collected.

A hint of Naomi’s scent, enough to have my heart racing, pulls me closer until I catch the bitter tinge of fear, and I blink hard, desperate to get to her and protect her as a mate should.

The fury that surges through me provides a moment of clarity, burning away some of the fog. The silver and wolfsbane have weakened me to the point of near collapse, but they haven't killed me.

Not yet.