Chapter 4
1099 Words
Perspective of Emily Rose:
With a heavy sigh, I trudged to the bathroom, my mind filled with the pressing need to brush my teeth and take a long, hot shower. Yet, once inside, I found myself merely perched on the edge of the bathtub, tears streaming down my face. It felt like an eternity before I could regain my composure.
I was at a loss, unsure of what to do next. My thoughts swirled around in my head like a whirlpool, threatening to pull me under. My energy was waning, my mind was clouded, and as soon as I collapsed into bed, sleep claimed me.
A few hours later, I was jolted awake by a series of muffled sounds. I followed the noise into the living room, where I found the stranger I had been searching for, sitting on the couch. His hands were cradled over his head as he emitted odd noises.
"Is something wrong?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.
He met my gaze with a sorrowful smile. "I'm going to die. I need to leave."
This declaration left me wide-eyed and sleep forgotten. "This place isn't fit for you to leave!" I protested, wrapping my arms around my waist. My pink Bunny Bugs pyjamas did little to lend authority to my words.
"My beautiful saviour, what will you do with a dead body?" His question was accompanied by a small smile.
His words left me reeling, my heart aching with a pain I had never known. The thought of him dying had never crossed my mind. I wasn't prepared to accept that reality.
"The garden is where I'll bury you," I retorted, attempting to lighten the mood. "You'll help my flowers bloom."
His laughter echoed in the room but was soon replaced by a fit of coughing. His chest wound had reopened, blood seeping through his shirt. I rushed to his side, helping him lay down. His hand, now coated in blood, clutched at his chest. Amidst the thick crimson liquid, I noticed a glint of silver.
He looked me straight in the eyes, his gaze seeming to penetrate my very soul as he whispered, "You can't save me."
"There has to be a way," I insisted, my hand instinctively reaching out to caress his cheek. He smiled at my touch and leaned into it.
"You're strong," he murmured. "You'd make a great Luna." His words left me breathless, especially when he pressed his lips against my skin.
His small act of affection sent a jolt of electricity through my body, igniting a spark I had never felt before. I was tempted to lean in, to taste the sweetness of his lips.
There's no harm in a small kiss, right?
However, that small voice in the back of my head snapped me back to reality. His words were a mystery to me, and I found myself asking him to clarify. He merely sighed, his sad eyes avoiding mine.
He broke the silence, requesting my phone. "It's the middle of the night," I protested, worried that he was too weak to be making calls. He needed rest.
"It might be too late by morning," was his quiet response.
I complied, quickly rising to my feet and heading to my room. I didn't want him to see the tears welling up in my eyes. His condition was dire, there was no denying it. The infection and the drugs were taking a toll on him.
I grabbed another IV from the bathroom counter and my phone from the nightstand. I couldn't stand by and watch someone die without putting up a fight.
Returning to the living room, I found him sitting there again, one hand on his chest. He looked up at me, "I couldn't breathe properly," he admitted weakly. I handed him my phone without a word.
He dialed a number, and after two rings, a gruff voice answered from the other end, "Yes?" The man on the other line sounded half-asleep.
"Nate, it's Brion," the stranger—Brion—announced. My heart skipped a beat. I finally had a name to the face.
"Alpha, what happened?! What are you doing?" Nate nearly yelled into the receiver.
"It doesn't matter," Brion dismissed quickly. "Just listen, okay?"
"Boss, what do you need?" Nate was quick to respond.
Brion shot me a stern look, but I refused to leave him. He sighed and continued, "The silver might kill me. I think I might die in the next few hours."
"What!?" Nate's voice was on the verge of breaking.
Brion ignored his outburst and continued, "Listen, Nate!" His voice radiated authority that left me stunned. What did this mean?
"I'm sorry, Alpha."
"When the link between me and the pack weakens, you'll know," Brion instructed. "Then, you will call our brother..."
"Alpha, what for?" Nate interrupted, but Brion continued.
"In a stern voice, he finished, "You will call Matt and then our father."
"Yes, Alpha," Nate responded, his voice weak.
Brion sighed, most likely due to Nate's weak response. "It was an ambush," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "Everyone is dead."
I exhaled sharply. I knew he had been through something terrible, but this was beyond my worst imaginings. His head hung low, his handsome face etched with sorrow.
"I saw around 200 rogues. There might be more of them out there," he warned. "You need to prepare for an attack, possibly even war."
"Alpha, what about you? How?" Nate's voice echoed in the room, filled with panic.
"Grow up already!!! You are my Beta! Not a weak dog!" Brion's voice was filled with so much authority and power that it overwhelmed me. I felt an urge to retreat, to hide from the intensity of it all.
What on earth was happening?
"Sorry, Alpha. I just can't imagine fighting without you," Nate's voice was barely a whisper.
"I understand," Brion nodded solemnly. "The next few days are crucial. Relay everything to Matt. He will lead the pack. Everything will be alright."
"Can I assist you in any other way?" Nate's voice trembled with anxiety.
"Tell Matt I'm sorry," Brion's gaze dropped to his feet. "I can't speak to him. He would lose it. He needs to fight and protect our wolves."
"Yes, sir. May I request something?" Nate asked in a low voice.
Brion raised an eyebrow in question.
"Of course," he responded, his tone laced with confusion.
"Please hold on tight," Nate pleaded hesitantly. "You are one of the strongest werewolves in the world. There has to be a way."
- Writer
