I press my back to the wall, heart hammering in my chest, and creep toward the stairs. Every step is silent and careful, my senses screaming at me. The house is quiet except for Paige’s shaky breathing, Poppy whispering prayers, and Jaxon’s quiet questions.
I pause at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the railing, my nose twitching. The scent hits me immediately, blood, coppery and sharp, mixed with the earthy tang of wolf fur. My stomach drops. My jaw tightens. It’s Leo; he’s close.
The back door is just ahead. I edge toward it, keeping low, listening. An owl hoots somewhere in the distance, but nothing else stirs nearby. My wolf snarls under my skin, a low, guttural rumble, but I keep my form human. Not here. Not in the house.
I slip the door open a crack. There, under the pale moonlight filtering through the trees, Leo’s wolf form is collapsed in the grass, one paw bent, chest barely moving. My stomach clenches. He’s alive… but only just.
I take a shallow breath, steadying my panic. One wrong move, and if there’s anyone still out here, they could notice me. But I can’t leave him. Not like this. I push off the frame and sprint.
When I reach him, my hands hover for a split second, feeling the warmth of his body. “Leo,” I whisper, my voice low but urgent. He groans, flicking an ear, but doesn’t move properly. My wolf snarls again, but I ignore it, focusing. Carefully, I flip him into my arms, cradling him close. His blood is warm against my shirt. His weight is heavier than I expect.
I make a break for the house, running with rapid steps, ears straining for any sounds of movement. The wind carries the scent of wolves, of hunters, of danger. Every sense screams that we’re not alone, but I keep going. One foot in front of the other. The door is just ahead, and I leap, barely slowing, moving as fast as I can without dropping him.
I set him down gently on the floor before turning back to lock the door. I pull down the blinds and flick the light on. I kneel beside Leo, watching his laboured breathing and scanning his body for the worst of the injuries. The blood is bright and sticky. A gunshot to his flank. I grab a towel from the kitchen counter, pressing it to the wound. My teeth grit with frustration and fear as the small towel turns red rapidly.
“I need more towels,” I say to Parker in the mind-link, trying to keep control as panic creeps back. My wolf claws at the edges of my mind, demanding release, but I force it down. I can’t help Leo if I don’t have hands.
I tighten my grip on the towel, pressing harder. “You’re going to be fine. You’re a fighter. You’re one of the best,” I mutter, more to myself than him. His breathing is shallow, erratic, but his paw twitches in response. That’s something; it’s enough for now.
I hear movement upstairs and, moments later, Parker drops beside me, his arms full of towels. I take one from him and bite back a groan, pressing the towel harder, scanning for anything else that might help. “Just hold on. Just hold on for me, you stubborn bastard,” I plead.
The scent of blood is thick, metallic in the air. But I can’t let it paralyse me.
**Paige’s POV **
I huddle on the floor between the bed and the wall with Jaxon pressed against my chest, and Poppy whispering prayers beside me. My hands tremble, and I can feel my heart hammering in my throat. Every sound outside twists my stomach. I want to curl into myself, to make it all stop, but my mind won’t let me. I’m trapped between fear and the desperate need to do something. Anything.
How am I going to explain this to Poppy if we survive the night? If they survive. If Ryder or. Remy… if Callen… if anyone… My chest tightens at the thought. The reality of what’s happening outside makes me feel like a fraud, hiding here while my mates fight and risk everything. I feel useless.
A sharp voice cuts through my panic. “Where can I find clean towels?” Parker asks, crouched beside me. His eyes are calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw.
“Cupboard,” I manage to say, pointing toward the airing cupboard across the room.
He nods, yanking every towel he can grab and stacking them in his arms. “Don’t move,” he says, and I watch him rush from the room. I swallow hard, gripping Jaxon tighter.
I try to focus on something else, anything else. My hearing. I close my eyes, forcing my senses outward, straining to catch the smallest sounds. Panic scrambles my thoughts, but I push through it. I hear the thrum of my own heartbeat, Jaxon’s quiet breathing, Poppy muttering under her breath, and then, faint but unmistakable, a strained voice cutting through everything.
“Hold on! Don’t… don’t give up!”
It’s Callen. My stomach lurches, and my hands clench. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wait here any longer. I can’t sit and hide while he’s downstairs, struggling to keep someone alive.
I glance at Poppy. Her eyes are wide with fear. “Stay with him,” I whisper. “I’ll be back.”
Poppy doesn’t protest. She nods slowly, taking Jaxon from me and clutching him to her chest, and I force myself to leave them.
Every shaky step toward the stairs feels heavier, like something is trying to stop me from going down there. The house is eerily quiet, except for the sound of Callen’s soft voice downstairs.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and freeze, struggling to process everything. The scent hits me before I even see it: copper, iron, blood. My pulse spikes. My throat tightens. I force myself to inhale slowly, pushing through the panic that’s threatening to drag me under
The kitchen is worse than I had imagined. Blood is all over the floor, the copper smell thick in the air. Towels press against the wound on the wolf’s side, but it’s still far too much. His shallow, erratic breathing makes my stomach drop. Callen is crouched over him, hands gripping the towels, whispering encouragements like a prayer.
“Just stay with us, Leo,” he says.
I swallow against the bile rising in my throat and move closer, forcing my fear down.
“Callen,” I whisper, and he glances up, tension and relief flashing in his eyes. “Let me help.”
He hesitates, then nods. I kneel beside him and press another towel to Leo’s side, adjusting the pressure while my hands shake. The fear is still there, gnawing at me, but I push it back, focusing on keeping him alive.
I glance at the stairs, thinking of Poppy and Jaxon, and force myself to block out the panic. I have to focus. I have to help. There’s no other choice right now.
I press the towel harder against Leo’s wound, feeling sick at the way his blood seeps through it, hot and sticky against my hands. My chest hammers and my hands tremble, but I force myself to stay steady.
Callen’s eyes meet mine, dark with worry. “It’s not slowing, is it?”
I shake my head, completely out of my league with this. Cuts and bruises I can manage, but this is too much. I listen to Leo’s shallow, ragged breaths, searching for any change in the rhythm.
“Callen… I think we need more help,” I admit. “I… I can’t do this by myself.”
He glances at me and nods. “I know, as soon as it’s safe the healers will come, but there are hunters pushing from the south too. If we can…”
“Get Poppy,” I interrupt, my voice firmer than I feel. “She’s training to be a vet, so she knows more about this than either of us. She has a better chance of saving him. I don’t think we can hide this from her after tonight anyway.”
Callen nods. “Parker, go. Ask her to come help.”
He hesitates only a moment before he nods and rushes up the stairs.
I look back down at Leo; he seems smaller like this. I don’t know him well, we’ve barely said three words to each other, but I know he’s a formidable force. If anyone can survive this, it’s him. I press harder on the towels, willing him to hang on, willing him to live. Each second stretches into eternity.
A few tense moments pass before Poppy makes her way down the stairs, her face pale, and I instantly feel guilty for the extra trauma I’m about to add on to her. She stops dead when she sees the scene in front of her, her hand covering her mouth.
“Oh… my God,” she breathes, voice trembling. “Is that… a wolf?”
“Yes, can you help? We can’t stop the bleeding.”
“Paige, please move away. Wolves can be vicious, especially when scared and injured,” she says, fear clear in her eyes.
I glance at Callen, heart hammering. “He’s safe,” he says firmly, his hands still gripping the towels on Leo’s wound. “I promise he won’t hurt anyone. Please, Poppy. He’s alive, but we need help to stabilise him.”
Poppy blinks, taking a sharp breath to steady herself, then nods. “Right. Okay. We can do this. Tell me what happened.”
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