The Bear's Redemption

Chapter 9

Makini

I grab the girls and drag them between two buildings for cover. Out of the corner of my eye, I see blood; someone’s hit. With my heart hammering, I scan the trees.

There.

Another shot, another impact. Flesh this time. There's no time to think.

I pull my Glock and break into a sprint, covering the girls as best I can. He’s stunned. I’m almost on him as he gets up to move. I slam into him at full force, knocking the breath from my lungs and his. We hit the ground hard, and I don’t hesitate, I smash the barrel of my gun against his head and drag it up to see...Lionel.

Shit. I should have trusted my instincts.

There’s chaos behind me, shouting, feet pounding.

Myan appears at my side, grabbing Lionel roughly.

“Good job, Sarge. I got him,” Myan growls, pinning him by the shoulder.

Kuma comes running up with cuffs, snarling low in his throat while tossing them to My.

I glance up and feel my gut twist.

Dorgan’s sprinting towards the Med Wing, cradling Sasha’s limp, bloodied form. Dael is racing next to him, carrying Kitari, blood is soaking one leg.

“You okay?” Kuma grunts, grabbing me by my shoulders, and looks me over, scanning for any obvious injuries. Myan hauls Lionel to his feet roughly, still scanning the area, aware and protective.

I am stunned for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah. I wasn’t fast enough. I realized it too late…”

“How the hell did the girls not notice?” Myan snaps. “Sasha’s a dragon, and Kitari’s instincts are superb.”

“I think,” my mind races, trying to put the pieces together, “I think he poisoned them. He gave them water earlier on the training grounds. They were fine, then they suddenly started stumbling. I had to drag them.”

The guilt chokes me. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop him.”

Kuma pulls me into a fierce hug, grounding me. Behind us, Lionel whines low in his throat. Kuma snarls at him, releasing me and grabbing him by one arm. He looks at Myan and My gives a curt nod, some secret conversation happening.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a nice, painful conversation, boy,” Kuma growls darkly. Then he drags Lionel off without a second glance.

I’m still standing there, rattled, when Jax and Cho sprint over.

“Sarge, you okay?” Jax demands.

“I’m good. I’m good,” I mutter, even though I don’t feel it.

“I didn’t stop him,” I whisper. “I should have."

“Hey,” Myan cuts in firmly. “You got him. That’ll save them. We’ll get answers now.”

Jax slaps a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Stars,” he mutters. “Sasha… Kitari… are they?"

“Last I saw them, they were still alive,” I say hoarsely. “Let’s get to the Med Wing.”

“And you’re getting checked too,” Jax adds, his tone brooking no argument.

“I’m fine,” I scoff, already marching towards the Med Wing.

Inside, though, the guilt and adrenaline are burning me alive.

The Med Wing’s a flurry of chaos when we barge in. Medics swarm around Sasha and Kitari. Blood smears are everywhere, Sasha’s face is pale as death, and Kitari is writhing weakly on a stretcher.

Dorgan’s standing over Sasha like a storm about to break. His hands are bloody, his face wild, pure rage and fear battling in his eyes.

When he sees me, his entire body tenses.

“You,” he growls, storming towards me. For a second, I brace for impact. Dorgan’s a dragon shifter, an angry dragon shifter, and I’m already worn thin.

But he doesn’t attack me.

Instead, he grabs me by the shoulders, lightly shaking me. His eyes lock on mine, and for a second, he breathes, chest heaving.

“You saved her,” he rasps. His voice is broken. Raw.

“I tried,” I whisper. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

“You saved her,” he repeats fiercely, like he needs me to understand.

He pulls me into a rough, bone-crushing hug. His body shakes, a mix of fury, fear, and relief. For a moment, he holds onto me like I’m a lifeline.

I stand stiffly for a second, stunned, then hug him back. Only for a second.

Then Dorgan pulls away, his face already locked down into that cold, controlled mask he wears so well. He’s a leader. He doesn’t get to break down. Not here.

“Medics are stabilizing them,” he says, more composed now. “You need to get checked.”

“I’m fine.”

He shoots me a look so fierce that even Myan whistles low under his breath.

“You’re getting checked,” Dorgan growls.

No arguing with that tone.

Cho gently but firmly steers me toward an empty cot. One of them starts cleaning up the grazes and bruises I didn’t even realize I had. My mind’s only half there; I keep glancing at Sasha and Kitari across the room.

They are alive.

They’re breathing.

But they’re not out of the woods yet.

Dorgan is back at Sasha’s side within moments, gripping her hand with such force that his knuckles turn white. He bows his head low, his forehead touching hers. A private moment, raw and unbearably tender.

Myan drops on the cot next to me, shoulder brushing against mine lightly.

“You did good, Sarge,” he says quietly. “Real good.” He stays for a few seconds, then strides off on a mission again.

I nod, but the weight on my chest doesn’t lift.

Because it’s not over.

Lionel planned this, poisoned them to weaken them, and then shot them. Thank heavens he can’t aim for s**t, or they would both be dead. Not a trained assassin then? Interesting. I file that away for later.

Still, someone sent him.

And whoever it was, they weren’t done yet.

I look over at Pan, hovering near Sasha with his hands outstretched. His brow furrows in concentration, his power crackling around her, but it’s like the air is rejecting him. The healing energy ripples outward, only to disappear as if it never existed. He’s trying so hard, I can see it. His shoulders are tense, his jaw tight, and the tremor in his hands tells me everything. He’s doing everything he can, but it’s not enough. Not this time.

His power should be able to heal. He’s done it before. He’s mended broken limbs, closed wounds that should’ve killed, and yet, now, in the face of this poison, it’s nothing. His fingers hover over Sasha’s body, glowing with a faint light, but the poison’s grip on her remains unyielding. He grits his teeth, feeling frustrated. The more he tries, the thicker the darkness around her seems to grow.

“Come on, Sasha,” he whispers, his voice rough, like it’s being dragged from the pit of his stomach. “You’re not allowed to leave us. Not like this.”

I want to say something, anything to reassure him, but I can’t. He’s right. He’s right that she needs to wake up, that we can’t lose her, but his power is slipping through his fingers like sand. I know it’s not his fault. But to him, it must feel like a betrayal of everything he’s ever been. Pan’s always been the one to fix things, to heal what’s broken, but this… this is too much.

His hands fall from her, and I can see the defeat in him. The energy he’s been trying to channel dissipates into the air, leaving him exhausted and empty. He slumps slightly, staring at Sasha. I can see it on his face, the self-blame and frustration.

I catch Dorgan’s gaze from across the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes never leaving Sasha. There’s nothing he can do either, but it’s not that that’s breaking him. It’s that look in his eyes, hope, raw and desperate, clawing to stay alive.

“Pan,” he says softly, almost pleading. “Please. Don’t stop. Do something.”

Pan flinches at the sound of Dorgan’s voice, but doesn’t respond. He looks at Sasha again, the weight of failure settling over him like a heavy blanket. I don’t know what’s worse, the fear in Dorgan’s eyes or the sorrow in Pan’s. It feels like we’re all caught in a storm that we can’t escape. Sasha is barely hanging on. And even with all them combined, there’s only so much they can do without risking paralyzing her.

I want to say something to them both, something to make it better. But I can’t. I don’t have the right words, and I don’t have the power to make it right. Before I can say anything, Nana Sena barrels straight past me and takes Dorgan in her arms. The small, old shifter cradles the six-foot alpha like a child.

“Och, ma dear bairn, dinnae fash yersel'. All will be well, aye. The dragon'll pull through, aye, it has tae. It must. The fire's still in its heart yet.”

As usual, she's her usual reassuring, loving, nurturing self.

Dr. Shaun is already in emergency mode, his voice cutting through the tension like a scalpel. “Okay, everyone, we need space. We need to move her, scan first, then assess surgical options. The bullet is still lodged too close to the spine.”

He barely looks up as he barks out orders, already at Sasha’s side. “Kelsie and Gwen assist with Kitari. Pan and Kate, you’re with me. Let's move.”

They move like clockwork, adrenaline-fuelled and grim. Sasha’s body is gently lifted and wheeled out. Pan stays close, eyes wide and hands shaking, still glowing faintly from the failed healing.

And I sit there.

Frozen.

The hallway stretches around me, voices muffled like I’ve gone underwater. I can’t breathe. My heart pounds, and my fists are clenched tight. I can feel my nails digging into my skin, keeping me grounded, barely.

There is no mission to complete. No offense to plan. No counterstrike.

No enemy to stare down through a rifle scope.

Just this, this endless waiting while guilt eats me alive from the inside.

I should have done more. I should have noticed sooner. Reacted faster. The second Lionel acted strangely, the second Sasha stumbled. I should have known. That’s my job. That’s who I am.

Master Sergeant. Lead from the front. Shield the team. And I have failed.

I’ve never had real friends. My past didn’t allow for that. Too much blood. Too many secrets. My team, they’re my family. My brothers. My sisters. I lead them. I protect them.

But Sasha… Sasha was the first person who treated me like more than my rank. More than my past. She was my equal. My friend.

The only true one I have had.

And now I might lose her.

That thought breaks something in me. A clean, sharp c***k, like a bone under pressure for too long. I drop my head into my hands, my shoulders shaking.

Don’t fall apart.

Not now.

But I already am.