Page 40 of Wild Games
“Just getting a feel for everyone’s abilities,” I reply, ensuring my voice carries to nearby wolves. “I’ll need to examine everyone’s accommodations. See if there are any magical traces remaining. And go to the clinic to check up on the patient.”
Callum nods. “Let’s do that first. I’ll escort you.”
A flash of grey moves between distant trees. My wolf recognizes Jax instantly, and warmth spreads through my chest despite everything. He’s keeping his distance but staying close enough to watch over me. When I look again, he’s melted back into the forest.
The clinic is our next stop. The building smells of antiseptic and healing herbs, a combination that always makes me slightly nauseous. The wolf from last night lies propped up in bed, still pale but alert. Dark circles ring his eyes, and his hands shake slightly when he reaches for his water glass.
“How are you feeling?” I settle into the chair beside his bed, keeping my expression sympathetic and non-threatening, in case he thinks I’m here to accuse him of something.
“Better.” His voice comes out rough. “The healers say I’ll make a full recovery, but...” He trails off, staring at his trembling hands. “My competition’s over.”
Instead of sounding devastated, I think he’s relieved. It’s been quite an eventful couple of weeks.
“It must have been frightening.”
He shakes his head, trying to come up with the right words.
“I thought I was dying.” The words come out in a rush. “My whole body just... stopped working. Like my battery went flat, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.”
His hand clutches at his throat, like he’s reliving it, how he was lying on the floor gasping for breath. For an alpha wolf, a prime physical specimen used to being powerful and strong, feeling helpless was probably strange and terrifying for him.
“Can you walk me through what happened in the hours before? Any detail might help, no matter how small.”
He describes his day, leaving his room, walking to the grounds. All totally normal. Then the sudden onset, how one moment he was cooling down after training, and the next, he was on the ground. “My muscles all locked up, and there was just pain and this feeling like something was crushing me from the inside.”
Callum’s expression is grim. He’s thinking the same as I am. It’s a miracle he’s alive.
“Had you noticed anything unusual before? During earlier events. Light-headedness? Forgetfulness?”
He shakes his head, certain of his answer.
“No, nothing. I felt strong. Ready.” He’s adamant this was the first unusual thing that’s happened to him. His hands clench the blanket, knuckles white. “I was so close to making the finals. And then...”
I spend another ten minutes with him, asking gentle questions about what he ate and drank, who he trained with, and if anyone had been particularly interested in his performance. His answers paint a picture of a dedicated competitor blindsided by what’s happened.
“We’ll find who did this,” I tell him as I prepare to leave.
“You think someone did it on purpose?”
Callum and I both nod.
“But why? I’m not even one of the favourites to win. It was just an honour to get this far.” An interesting point. I file it away for later consideration. He lowers his head. “I was hoping it would look good on an application to the Enforcers.”
Ah.
“I think they’re going after anyone who gets in their way rather than it being personal. Even if it’s hard not to feel like it was.” I stand and look at him, a strong, powerful alpha lying weak in a hospital bed. “I don’t think they’ll try anything again, if that’s something you’re concerned about. They’ve gotten what they wanted for now.”
He nods, looking slightly relieved, but frustrated at being so vulnerable. No alpha likes feeling helpless. In fact, they loathe it. I’d imagine once he recovers even a small bit of his strength, he’ll be unbearable as a patient.
“When you’re feeling up for it, I’ll ask Zane to stop by. He can give you some pointers on the application process. I have a feeling he’d support your application.”
“Thank you.” With a grateful smile, he lies back against the pillows, exhausted, even after our short conversation.
By early afternoon, Callum and I are making our very public search of the accommodations. We start with the standard guest quarters, a long building divided into small but comfortable rooms for visiting competitors from the early stages who’ve opted to stay on until the end. I make sure everyone sees us going door to door, checking each room, whether occupied or not.
It’s all for show. The gems on my knife never even flicker. There’s no magic here.
“Anything?” Callum asks as we exit the fifth room, his voice pitched to carry.