FIFTY TWO

FIFTY TWO
DARRAGH'S POV

I lay on the floor, my body broken and bloodied, watching my father's limp form. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. Still alive. My mind struggled to process what had just happened. How Sara had seemingly stopped him with nothing but an outstretched hand.

The room spun around me. Blood pooled beneath my cheek, warm and sticky. Every breath sent daggers of pain through my ribs.

"We need to get him to the healer!" my mother screamed, her voice cracking. "Now!"

Eamon snapped out of his frozen state and rushed toward my father. He scooped him up like he weighed nothing, cradling his Alpha's body against his chest.

"What about Darragh?" Sara asked, kneeling beside me. Her fingers hovered over my face, not quite touching the swollen mess it had become.

"He'll heal," my mother said, her tone flat. She wiped blood from her own temple with the back of her hand. "He's young. Strong."

I wanted to laugh, but my broken ribs wouldn't let me. Always the loyal mate, even after he'd struck her down too.

The world blurred as they carried my father out. Voices faded in and out like a bad radio signal. I closed my eyes, letting darkness take me for a moment.

When I opened them again, Sara was still there, her palm cool against my forehead.

"Can you stand?" she whispered.

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if that was true. With her help, I dragged myself upright. Pain screamed through every inch of my body. My left eye was swollen shut. Blood dripped from my nose, my mouth, soaking the collar of my shirt.

Sara wrapped her arm around my waist, careful to avoid the worst of my injuries. "Let's get you cleaned up," she murmured.

I spat more blood onto the floor. "I don't need to get cleaned up ."

She stiffened against me. "Darragh, you're a mess."

"You heard my mother, I'll heal."

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw something ancient swimming in their green depths. Something that didn't belong in the eyes of someone so young.

"If that is what you want," she said. "But we should probably follow them to the healer."

I let her guide me through the hallways. Every step sent fresh waves of agony up my spine. My wolf stirred within me, finally beginning the healing process. Too little, too late.

Wolves stopped and stared as we passed. The sight of the Alpha's son, beaten and bloody, leaning on a female Gamma for support, after being dealt with my his own father.

The healer's quarters smelled of herbs and incense. The scent grew stronger as Sara pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside, my father lay on a bed, pale and still. The healer, Rowan, an older werewolf with silver-streaked hair, hurried around him. Her hands moved swiftly, checking his pulse, his temperature, examining his eyes.

My mother and Eamon stood to the side, worry etched into their features.

Rowan looked up when we entered. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, but she didn't pause in her work.

"His pulse is weak," she said, pressing her fingers to my father's neck. "It's like he had a brain hemorrhage."

"But he's still young," I said, confusion cutting through the pain. "Young enough to regenerate."

Rowan shook her head, lines deepening around her mouth. "I don't know why he's not healing himself." She reached for a bottle on a nearby shelf. "I'll have to use the Source."

She turned to us, her expression grave. "Can you all leave the room? I need space to work."

My mother looked like she wanted to argue, but Eamon placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her outside. Sara followed shortly after.

I stayed behind for a hot minute because a part of me knew what was happening to him.

"What could be wrong with him, Rowan?" I asked.

Rowan turned back, surprised to see that I was still in the room.

"I cannot say with surety what is happening if I do not use the source. But if he is not regenerating himself, I fear for our Alpha."

I nodded and then left the room myself.

The hallway felt cooler than the healer's quarters. I leaned against the wall, letting it take some of my weight. My legs threatened to give out beneath me. The healing had begun in earnest now—I could feel bones starting to knit, tissues rebuilding—but the process was agonizingly slow after such extensive damage.

Sara approached me, her eyes searching my face. "What did the healer say?"

I told her what little the healer divulged. Then I saw my chance.

"Can I ask you something, Sara?"

She nodded, her expression guarded.

"He's unconscious now." I glanced around to make sure my mother and Eamon were out of earshot. "You can be honest with me. What do you know... about what my father did to your grandfather?"

Her face dropped, shoulders slumping. "Please drop it, Darragh."

"I can't help but notice you're not heartbroken about what happened to your grandfather," I said, gesturing again toward the door where my father lay fighting for his life. "It is not like my father can get you now. Your silence... It's starting to make you look..."

I didn't finish the sentence, but Sara's eyes flashed.

"What? Suspicious?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "His death isn't sad to me. You know what kind of man he was."

"He was still your grandfather."

"If that was your father who had that accident, would you shed a tear?"

I didn't answer. I got it. Everyone knew how abusive Gamma Killian had been. The stories of his cruelty were legion within the pack. But I couldn't help wanting to pursue the issue. I needed to dig out the truth—not just for Sara's grandfather, but for myself. For my mother. To prevent her from abandoning me in the future that was quickly coming.

"You don't have to care about your grandfather," I said quietly. "But I need your permission to use his death for my cause."

Sara's eyes narrowed. "You want to punish your father?"

I shook my head. "I want to keep someone that matters to me."

"Ha. Your mate. Ciara." Her tone was flat, disappointed.

I didn't dispute it. Better than explaining the truth. Better than telling her I was trying to save my mother before she completely gave the monster she'd married and left everything that has his taint. Me included.

Sara sighed, her shoulders dropping. "What can I say? You're headstrong. You'll do what you want."

"Thank you."

I paused, remembering the scene in her room. The way my father had frozen mid-kick. The blood streaming from his nose. The way his body had convulsed on the floor.

"There's something else," I said.

"What?"

"Back when my father was beating the shit out of my face..."

"Yes?" Her voice was tight, cautious.

"It looked like you..." I trailed off, unsure how to phrase what I'd seen. What I thought I'd seen.

"Like I what?"

I shook my head. "Never mind."

The healer's door creaked open. Rowan stepped out, wiping her hands on a cloth. Her face was grave.

"Alpha Darragh, can I see you?"

"Excuse me, Sara," I murmured, pushing away from the wall. My legs felt steadier now, the healing accelerating.

I followed Rowan back into the room. She closed the door behind us with a soft click. My father lay on the bed, his skin waxy and gray. His breath came in shallow gasps.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I healed him," Rowan said, her voice low and troubled. "But his cells deteriorated just as fast."

"What does that mean?"

Rowan met my eyes, her gaze steady and grim. "Your father has been poisoned. Wolfsbane poisoning."

The word hung in the air between us. Wolfsbane. The one plant that could kill a werewolf. The one substance our bodies couldn't heal from.

"Are you sure?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Rowan nodded. "The symptoms are unmistakable. The question is, how did it get into his system? And who put it there?"

I turned away from her, looking at my father's pale face. He seemed smaller somehow, lying there helpless. Less like the monster who'd beaten me half to death and more like a man facing his mortality.

"Can you save him?" The question surprised even me. Part of me wanted him to die. The other part—the part that had once loved him, once craved his approval—wanted him to live. To face what he'd done.

"I don't know," Rowan admitted. "Wolfsbane poisoning is... complicated. It would be easier if this was wolfsbane in a bullet or maybe even a goddamn spray. But it's not. This Wolfsbane was ingested by the Alpha multiple times. I'm thinking his food. Or drinks. This is in his system already. It is in his blood. I'm afraid there is no coming back from this. The Alpha is terminal."

I nodded, processing this. "Keep trying. And don't tell anyone else what you've found. Not even my mother."

"As you wish, Alpha."