Chapter 17 Chapter 17
Chapter 17: Lykon’s Anger
~ IGNAS
Lykon hurriedly carried me to the infirmary and Roy followed closely behind, his face painted with worry. As soon as we got inside, the healers—not one, but three of them—rushed over, with their assistants. The eldest pack leader barked orders to her assistants and they moved clearing the bed and making space like their lives depended on it.
I tried to breathe, but damn, who knew poisoned claw marks could hurt this bad? It felt like something inside me had been torn open, ripped apart, and left to burn under air. I swallowed, forcing my eyes to stay open, but they felt so heavy.
"Ignas, you're going to be okay," Roy said, standing right by the bed as Lykon gently placed me down. "The healers will begin their work.” he turned the the assistants, “Treat the Alpha properly. I'm aware you know that.”
They nodded.
His voice sounded shaky. Roy, the same man who never let emotion slip, now sounded like he could fall apart any second. I wanted to tell him I was fine, but the lie wouldn’t form on my tongue. My chest lifted and fell in short, sharp breaths. Okay it hurts, I'm going to admit it.
What the hell did they poison me with?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Lykon. He stood still, his jaw tight, and his fists clenching and unclenching with his eyes locked on me like I was the enemy. The anger in his gaze didn’t fade, but beneath it, I caught something else. Worry. It was there, small but real.
I smiled weakly. Just a twitch of my lips, not even enough to be called a smile, but it was all I could manage. My eyes couldn’t hold his for long, so I looked away. I stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks, anything to avoid the way he looked at me.
It wasn’t my fault. I told myself that over and over. It wasn’t. There is no battle without wounds. Even the strongest fighters get hurt. It was for the pack. I did what I had to. I’d do it again if I had to. My people came first.
The healers moved around me, fast but gentle, their faces sharp with focus. One of them leaned over, pressing a cold cloth to my burning forehead while another carefully examined the wound on my side. Their faces said enough. The poison was working fast.
"We need to prepare for surgery," one healer said, snapping on gloves. "The poison is spreading."
Another turned to Lykon and Roy. "You two, please. Step outside."
Roy hesitated, his eyes flickering to me, lips parted like he wanted to argue. But the healer’s voice was firm. "Now."
He let out a heavy breath, his hand brushing against mine for just a second before he stepped back. "I’ll be right outside," he whispered.
Lykon, though, didn’t move. His feet stayed planted like they were nailed to the floor. His hands balled into fists. "I'm not leaving," he said, voice low, dangerous. "I'm staying right here."
The healer looked at him, steady and unflinching. "You can’t help her by standing in the way. Let us work."
For a moment, I thought he’d fight them on it. His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscles twitch. But after a long pause, he stepped back, slow and stiff, like every part of him hated the choice. He walked out, but I knew he hadn’t gone far.
I could still feel his presence, heavy and sharp, lingering like an unspoken word. The door closed behind him, but there was a small glass window. My gaze shifted, and there he was. Right there. His face close to the glass, staring in. Staring at me.
His eyes. I couldn’t look away at first. They were different. The color was dark, too dark, the usual sharp gray now deep and stormy, like a wolf about to snap. His irises glowed slightly under the light, not bright, just enough to look haunting.
A shiver crawled down my spine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt... small. Like prey. My body flinched, turning my face away from him. It wasn’t because of the pain this time. It was fear. Not fear of the rogues, not the poison, but of him.
The healer pressed harder on my wound, trying to slow the spread of the venom, and the sharp sting forced a hiss from my lips. The sound must have reached him, because I heard it—the low, deep growl coming from the other side of the door.
I lifted my eyes again, and there he was. His lips had pulled back slightly, his fangs peeking out, and his eyes glowed brighter. The anger was still there, but it wasn’t the same anger from before. It was darker now. Deeper.
And then, he turned. Without a word, without looking back, Lykon walked away from the door, his figure vanishing down the hall. My chest ached, and not just from the wound. A strange kind of ache, one I couldn’t name.
Before I could think too long on it, I felt the cold pinch of a needle sliding into my arm. My fingers twitched, my head spinning fast, like I’d been thrown into open water. The voices around me faded, like whispers in a storm. The pain melted away, the room turned
soft and distant.
And then the world turned black.