Chapter 51 Out of Time
INDIE
The room went deathly quiet after the taller witch's words.
"So, make your choice, Alpha Zade. Which will it be?"
Zade's breathing was the only sound in the room for a while. It was shallow and ragged, as though every inhale cost him way too much effort. His violet eyes were dull and glassy, but they never left the witches. Not even once.
I waited for him to snarl, to bare his teeth, to order them out with that cold, lethal calm he used whenever he was about to rip someone apart.
Instead he just... stared. Then, slowly, his cracked lips moved.
"Leave."
The word was soft, barely more than a breath.
The witches blinked. The taller one's silver-threaded braids shifted as she tilted her head, surprise flashing across her face for the first time. The shorter one's glowing hands dimmed completely, blue smoke curling back into her palms.
"Excuse me?" the taller one said, her voice still serene but laced with a slight tension now.
Zade's fingers twitched against the sheets. "You heard me. Get. Out."
I felt Leon tense beside me, his fangs glinting for a second before he forced them back. His bracelet pulsed brighter, the red light flashing across his knuckles like warning lights.
The taller witch studied Zade for a long moment. Then, slowly, her mouth curved into a small, knowing smile.
"We've heard stories," she said. "The Alpha who tore through raiders until the river ran red. The one who left no survivors. The one who’s ruthless and merciless." Her smile widened just a little. "It's... pleasing to know you still have a soft spot for children."
My stomach twisted.
The shorter one inclined her head, almost mockingly polite. "Very well. We won't force the choice tonight. But time is not on your side."
She reached into the folds of her cloak and withdrew a small leather pouch, tied with black cord. She untied it to show us a coarse brown powder that smelled faintly of burnt herbs and something metallic.
"Give him this," she said, pressing the pouch into my hand. Her fingers were cold. "A pinch—only a pinch—mixed in water every night before he sleeps. It will disrupt the siphon temporarily and sever the vessel's pull for a few hours at a time."
I stared at the pouch like it might bite me.
"And the side effects?" Leon asked, his voice low.
The taller witch's smile didn't falter. "It will make him feel... intoxicated and a little light-headed. Euphoric, perhaps. The edges of pain will blur." She glanced at Zade. "He may not remember everything that happens while it's in his system. But the drain will slow. For a while."
Leon's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why the hell should we trust anything you hand us?"
The shorter witch laughed softly. "You don't have to trust us, hybrid prince. Trust is not required. Results are."
She moved closer to the bed, her gaze fixed on Zade.
"But heed this: only a little each night. No more. More than that, and the effects become... unpredictable. The intoxication can deepen and produce hallucinations. Loss of control even. Fever dreams that bleed into waking. And if he takes too much..." She shrugged one shoulder. "Well, unexpected things can happen."
Zade's jaw clenched so hard I heard the grind of his teeth.
The taller witch gave him a small bow. "We'll return when you're ready to make the real choice. Until then... use the powder wisely."
They turned as one and glided out of the room without another word. The door slid shut behind them, and silence crashed in.
Zade exhaled shakily and tried to push himself up.
His arms shook hard. Sweat immediately beaded on his forehead, sliding down his temples in slow, glistening trails. The sheet slipped lower, exposing the hard lines of his abs.
"Zade—" I lunged forward, catching his shoulders before he could collapse back.
He grunted, stubborn as ever, and kept pushing until he was half-sitting, propped against the headboard. His chest heaved with the effort, each breath rattling. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto the sheet.
I knelt on the mattress beside him, one hand on his chest to steady him, the other cupping his face. His skin was clammy, fever-hot in places and icy in others. His violet eyes met mine, hazy, exhausted, but still burning with that quiet, feral stubbornness I loved.
"I'm not killing her," he rasped. "I won’t kill a child. She’s my responsibility."
My throat closed. "She's not—"
"She has my eyes," he cut in, his voice cracking. "She called me Daddy. She came back from the dead because of me." He dragged in another breath. "If I kill her... what does that make me?"
I didn't have an answer.
Leon stepped closer, his arms crossed tight over his chest. The bracelet's red glow had dimmed slightly, but his knuckles were white.
"You're dying," he said bluntly. "That powder might buy time. But those witches aren't doing this out of the goodness of their hearts. They want something."
Zade's gaze slid to him. "I know."
"Then why let them walk out?"
"Because right now," Zade said, his voice hoarse, "I can't even stand. And Indie can't fight them alone. Not yet."
He looked back at me. Sweat kept sliding down his face, dripping onto my hand where it rested against his cheek.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I shook my head so hard that my vision blurred. "Don't."
He lifted a trembling hand and covered mine again. His fingers were weak, but they squeezed.
"Give me the powder," he said. "Just... a little. Tonight."
I stared at the pouch in my other hand. The coarse brown grains shifted inside like sand.
Leon's voice was strained when he spoke. "Indie—"
"I know," I whispered. "I know."
But Zade was looking at me like I had the key to his life in my hands.
So I nodded.
I opened the pouch with shaking fingers, pinched a tiny amount—barely more than a few grains—and dropped it into the glass of water on the nightstand. It dissolved almost instantly, turning the water a faint, muddy brown.
I lifted the glass to his lips. He drank slowly, grimacing at the taste.
Then he leaned back against the pillows, his eyes already glazing a little.
"Stay," he murmured, his hand finding mine again. "Both of you."
My eyes widened. Both?
There was no time to let myself linger on the thought.
I crawled onto the bed beside him, curling against his side, careful of the IV line. Leon hesitated, then he sank into the chair again, close enough that his knee brushed the mattress.
Zade's breathing slowed, and his eyelids drooped. For the first time in days, the tension in his jaw eased.
But as his eyes fluttered shut, I couldn't shake the witches' warning.
Only a little. Unexpected side effects.
I looked across Zade's chest at Leon.
His golden eyes were fixed on the pouch still in my hand. Neither of us spoke. But we both knew the same thing. This wasn't salvation.
This was just buying us time.
And time was quickly running out.