Rise of the Underdogs: (Book 1) COLTON

Chapter 11

Kaden was the only person I allowed near me while I slept in the hospital. No nurses, no packmates, definitely not Neil. After my failed attempt at taking my own life, I didn’t have the energy to pretend I was okay. I was miserable. Hollowed out and left behind. Kaden told everyone I’d gone away for a while. That helped. It kept the curious glances and pity-driven questions at bay.

Neil didn’t come by once — which was perfect. I wasn’t ready to see him. Not after what happened. Not after breaking like that.

A knock, soft and familiar, pressed against the silence of the room. I wanted to disappear, but there was nowhere left to hide. The hospital stripped everything after I tried using the bedding to hang myself. The steel-framed bed had no sheets, just a thin mattress that barely held its shape. The single chair next to the bed felt like punishment if you sat in it longer than five minutes. Cold. Unwelcoming. Just like me.

Kaden had visited yesterday, giving me the kind of heads-up only he could. He told me Dreson and Leif needed intervention. That Dre was gay — not that it mattered. What did matter was Leif was his Mate. I already knew. The moment I met the Welshman, the air around him changed. It was in the way Dre looked at him — like he’d found home.

I was sitting on the window ledge, knees pulled close, staring blankly down at the world below. A few nurses passed along the sidewalk, chatting quietly. Laughter drifted from the entrance. Life kept moving, even when I couldn’t.

The door slid open.

I didn’t turn my head. Didn’t flinch. But my wolf knew. The scent rolled in soft and familiar — vanilla and wildflowers, melted ice cream and something that made my lungs tighten. My heart stalled.

“Daisy?” I whispered.

She gave a shy wave from the doorway, her posture hesitant. Her voice, when it came, was soft and uncertain. “Hi, Colt. Um... Neil wouldn’t tell me anything, but Kaden filled me in. I didn’t know how to approach it, so I stayed away until he said you were recovering.”

Recovering. That word felt like a knife.

Wolves don’t really heal without their Mates. It’s not magic — but it’s something close. Just knowing someone is there, someone who cares — that breaks the block. That lets you breathe again.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Kaden’s good like that. He’s nice for a hybrid.”

She nodded without hesitation, like it was fact. So Kaden had told her everything — every miserable, jagged detail — but I didn’t care. Kaden wasn’t the type to sugarcoat the truth to make it easier to swallow. No, he served it raw, handed you a glass of loyalty-flavored friendship juice, and told you to gulp it down, thorns and all.

“He said as much,” Daisy admitted, her tone steady but edged with frustration. “Look, I don’t know why my cousin’s being such an ass about this. I mean… Uncle Henry even told me the real reason Aunt Andrea died. So yeah, Neil lost his mom and granddad, but that doesn’t give him permission to treat the people who care about him like garbage.”

I slipped down from the windowsill, my legs unsteady beneath me, arms trembling from the effort of movement. Every step felt heavier than the one before — not physically, but emotionally. I made it to the edge of the bed and sat down slowly, easing myself into the space like I might shatter if I moved too fast.

Without speaking, I reached out.

My bandaged, clumsy hand met hers. Her fingers were warm, gentle. The moment our skin connected, something cracked open in me. I didn’t sob — not aloud — but it was close. So close my throat burned from holding it back.

“Lay with me,” I whispered. “Please… just for a little while. Just so I can heal a little, Daisy.”

Tears welled in her eyes and shimmered like broken glass under soft light. She nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. Of course.”

She climbed gently into the narrow hospital bed beside me, careful not to jostle the monitors. Her body curled around mine, fragile but present. Her fingers gripped the front of my shirt tightly, like she was holding onto something deeper than just fabric — like she was anchoring herself to me.

I gently pressed my lips to the side of Daisy’s head, breathing in her familiar scent like it was medicine for everything I couldn’t fix on my own. The mixture of vanilla and wildflowers lingered in the air, settling over me like a memory wrapped in comfort. It was sweetness intertwined with unmistakable strength—exactly how she always made me feel. In that moment, I knew, without even a flicker of doubt, that I wouldn’t need medication to sleep tonight. Her presence anchored me. Her warmth kept the nightmares at bay.

She was here and she was mine.

My Mate didn’t flinch when I held her.

“Go to sleep, Colt,” she whispered softly, her voice gentle and quiet, like wind brushing through leaves. “I’ll stay for a while longer, but I do need to go home before ten.”

“Visit as long as you like, Miss,” came the nurse’s voice as she stepped quietly into the room. Her tone held calm assurance, the kind woven together with empathy and experience. “He’s been miserable his entire stay,” she continued, glancing toward me with sympathy. “May I ask… are you his Mate?”

“He said I am,” Daisy replied, her voice uncertain but honest. The hesitation was still there, but so was the hope.

The nurse hummed thoughtfully. Her eyes didn’t wander; they remained on us as she moved closer to the monitor. “When he touches you,” she asked carefully, “does it make you feel safe and loved? And when he’s nearby, do you find that you feel stronger—even without meaning to?”

Daisy didn’t speak right away, but I felt her head nod gently against me. Her voice came afterward, soft yet filled with conviction. “Yes.”

“Then he is your Mate,” the nurse confirmed, her tone growing firmer as the truth settled into the room. “You feel it differently because you’re human, and that’s normal. But wolves heal faster when their Mates are close. Especially younger wolves. Especially this one. He’s been hanging by a thread for too long.”

“I have a lot to learn,” Daisy admitted, her words quiet but brave.

The nurse let out a soft chuckle, amusement threading through her kindness. “Honey, you let me know if there’s anything you need. Our young Beta needs his rest, but I can already tell that having you nearby will help more than anything we could prescribe in a bottle.”

Wait.

Still Beta?

Neil hadn’t removed me?

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, thoughts shifting. “I thought he’d give up on me,” I murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Daisy adjusted herself slightly, her fingers finding mine and brushing over my knuckles with care. She looked up at me, eyes full of emotion. “Colt,” she said softly, “his dad went absolutely ballistic when he found out Neil hadn’t told anyone you found your Mate. He’s been grounded.”

Neil? Grounded?

That was new.

“Why?” I asked, trying to make sense of it.

“Because he almost lost someone precious to him,” she replied, her tone even and steady, “over a selfish girl who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

Despite everything that had happened—despite the weight pressing into my chest—I found sleep.

Real sleep.

The kind I hadn’t felt in months.

For once, I didn’t need the crutch of medication. I didn’t need to drown my nightmares in bottles or lie awake waiting for the storm in my head to calm. I had Daisy. Curled in my arms. Breathing slowly. Silently weaving calm into every part of me. Her presence pushed back the darkness like sunrise behind clouds.

And when morning came, I woke to the soft tickle of her hair brushing against my forearm. She was still fast asleep, curled into my side like she’d always belonged there. I moved slowly, careful not to wake her, easing myself into a sitting position as I reached for the bandage on my wrist.

Unwrapping it took time. I didn’t rush.

When it finally came loose, I flexed my fingers and rotated my wrist. The skin was smooth. Whole. Not even a scar remained where I had carved myself open when I thought the pain couldn’t be survived.

I lay back down, shifting gently until I could wrap my arms around Daisy once more. Her warmth sank into my chest like sunlight cutting through fog on a cold morning.

She hadn’t rejected me.

Not yet.

And for the first time, that small word—yet—didn’t send me spiraling.

It gave me hope.