Ducking well clear of the whirling blades, Jax and Micah got Ryon into the helicopter. Then Micah gave her a hand up and a shy smile that pulled at his scarred face. As though realizing how he might appear to her, the man turned away and busied himself with Ryon. She was saddened that Micah was going through such a tough time, and she prayed he was getting better.
And not relying so much on the pills she’d seen him popping more often than maybe he should. But she couldn’t dwell on that at the moment.
“Go, go!” Jax yelled to Aric, and then they were airborne.
She stayed by Ryon’s side and prepared for the two-hour flight home. The compound, home. Such an odd concept. But it filled her with warmth to realize she was about to make her place with such awesome people.
Reaching down, she took one of Ryon’s big hands in hers. His palms were as hot as the sands of the Sahara. His face was deathly pale, eyes closed. Although the helicopter’s deafening noise prevented her from hearing, she could see the jerky rise and fall of his chest as he fought to breathe. Despite Nick’s prediction, she couldn’t help but be fearful. She tried their mind-link.
Come on baby, stay with me.
Tightening her grip on his fingers, she pressed a hand over his heart. Every sluggish beat pulsed as though mired in glue. As the sun rose higher, and the minutes ticked by, the deep, telltale rattle in his chest worsened. She remembered something he’d told her not long ago, when Micah had been hurt and she’d been so afraid.
I’ll always move heaven and hell to come home.
Now her fears had come to pass.
Aric’s anxious voice filtered through their headsets. “How’s he doing?”
Jax shook his head. “Hurry, man.”
Aric pushed the bird full throttle, eating the miles rapidly. But as the forest below rolled by, Daria could feel Ryon slipping away in spite of his fierce battle. In spite of the commander’s words. His breathing had become shallow, his features slack. She couldn’t stop touching him. His hair, his face. As if she might somehow keep his soul bound to this world.
“I love you, my mate. Please don’t go,” she whispered, even though he couldn’t hear. The men were listening through their headsets, but she didn’t care. She kept talking to him.
Her brave wolf gave it everything he had, right until the compound came into view far below. Any minute, Ryon would be in good hands.
Daria gazed down at him, and froze. Underneath her palm, his chest had gone completely still. No rattle, no movement at all. He wasn’t fighting any longer, wasn’t breathing. Horror washed over her.
“Oh, baby, no, no! Jax, my God!”
“Come on, buddy, Nick’s never wrong. Don’t do this,” Jax begged. He looked at Micah, his face white. “Get his head. I’ll do the compressions.”
They worked together, each passing minute an eternity, carrying a man they all loved beyond reach. Their frantic efforts met with failure, and by the time Aric put the chopper down, it seemed hopeless.
Ryon was gone.
As long as she lived, the sight of Mac and the others rushing away with his lifeless body would remain burned in her memory. Hardly aware of her actions, she stumbled after them, a zombie. A moan built in her chest, and escaped in a painful wheeze.
Halting in her tracks, she clapped her hands over her ears. “Nooo.”
Suddenly, Nick was there. His strong arms were pulling her backward, enfolding her. She buried her face in his chest and let the black wave take her. How long they clung to each other, sharing their terror of the news that she was certain would come, and the stark anguish, she couldn’t have said.
Finally, Nick stepped back and raked a hand through his dark hair. “You love Ryon, and he’s a good friend. One of my best men. Remember, I said he’d have a battle, but that battle is not lost. We’ll face this together, okay?” He held out a hand.
The simple gesture touched her. “Absolutely,” she whispered, and put her hand in his.
Together, they walked inside.
Under the watchful eye of Ryon’s many friends, Daria paced the small waiting room. Prayed harder than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t stop trembling.
The doctors had resuscitated him, but only after the promised battle. And they were saying damned little about his chances, despite what Nick had said.
Complications from the creature’s bite and the gunshot wound in his leg were the ultimate concern. The bacterial infection had spread through his bloodstream, ravaging his internal organs. He’d developed pneumonia, and his fever had climbed to a frightening one hundred and eight degrees.
Anyone but a shifter would’ve been dead.
They were pumping him with massive doses of antibiotics, along with painkillers. After several hours with no change, Nick left to make a few phone calls. One of which included notifying General Jarrod Grant of August’s claims. Daria had pulled Nick into a room and told him in private every single hateful word August had gleefully related to them. Nick’s blue gaze had darkened with every word.
“I knew absolutely nothing about this,” he had said in a low, dangerous voice. “But I will get to the bottom of it, take out August and everyone invoved in this horror, if it takes the rest of my life.”
And she believed him. She didn’t envy Nick and the general the unpleasant task of starting that investigation. Nick returned shortly, taking a seat across from the group.
Jax eyed him. “What’s up?”
“When Ryon’s out of danger, I’m calling a meeting and I’ll tell all of you at the same time.” He exchanged a knowing look with Daria that the others didn’t miss. But they didn’t push.
Daria rubbed her arms and shivered as Mac appeared, her expression kind. Daria’s stomach dropped to her toes.
“Ryon can have visitors now. One at a time, and keep it brief.”
Daria lurched to her feet. “Please, how is he?”
“Hanging in there,” she said with a gentle smile. “That man has the willpower of an ox.”
Jax nodded at her. “You go first, honey. We’ll wait.”
“Thanks.” She studied each of them, taking at least some comfort in the way they were rallying around her. In a short time, these wonderful men had become very important to her. She could see why Ryon was close to them.
Daria turned and made the walk down the corridor, the longest of her life.
And tried desperately to convince herself that, if the worst happened in spite of Nick’s prediction, she would be strong enough to say good-bye.
He was suffocating. Drowning in an ocean of pain. He tried letting himself sink and fall forever into the darkness just to escape it. But each time, they tormented him, pulling him to hover just below the surface. To stare into the soothing peace of death on one side, the beautiful light of life on the other, allowing him to reach neither.
“I want my mate,” he told them, repeatedly. Or dreamed he did. Perhaps they heard, because each time he whispered the word, something strange and pleasant swirled through him, chasing away the agony if only for a while.
He clung to that lifeline, the word and the warm feeling after. It was all he had to hold on to. All that mattered.
Until he heard her voice.
She told him to hang on, that she loved him. Would always love him. She said so many things, but all he grasped was I love you. Harder than ever, he fought to rise from the endless void. For her.
“Daria?”
“Hush, baby. You’re very sick, but you’re going to get better. Just rest and get stronger. I love you so much.”