Chapter 42 Chapter 42
They rushed Mimi home like time itself was chasing them.
Stetson didn’t wait for the car to fully stop before he was out, lifting Mimi into his arms as if she weighed nothing, as if sheer will alone could keep her breathing. Blood stained his shirt, her head lolled against his shoulder, and her breaths were shallow enough to terrify anyone watching.
Zarlia followed closely, heart pounding so hard it made her dizzy.
Inside the house, lights blazed. The doctor was already there—Luke had called him during the drive, his voice tight and urgent. The smell of antiseptic hit Zarlia the moment they crossed the threshold, sharp and clean and horribly reassuring.
Stetson laid Mimi gently on the bed, his hands lingering like he was afraid to let go. The doctor moved quickly, efficient and calm, snapping on gloves and assessing wounds with practiced eyes.
“Out,” the doctor said firmly, motioning Stetson back. “Give me space.”
Stetson obeyed, but reluctantly. He stepped away only far enough to pace the room like a caged animal, fists clenching and unclenching.
“What happened?” he demanded, turning to Zarlia. His voice wasn’t angry. It was tight. Controlled. Terrified.
She swallowed. “They were werewolves,” she said softly. “Pack members. They came for Mimi. To kill her. W…we tried to fight them off but—” The words tasted wrong in her mouth.
Stetson stopped pacing. “Kill her?” he repeated, disbelief flashing across his face. “Why?”
Zarlia hesitated. “It wasn’t the first time. Mimi said it was their second attack.”
Silence slammed into the room.
Stetson’s eyes darkened, something volatile flickering beneath the surface. “Second?” His voice rose. “She knew this could happen again and she didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?” He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She didn’t want to worry you,” Zarlia said quickly. “She thought she could handle it. And I knew too late”
Stetson laughed once—sharp, humourless. “Handle it?” He gestured toward the bed, where the doctor worked steadily over Mimi’s unconscious body. “Look at her.”
His voice cracked.
“She’s my sister,” he said quietly. “And you—” His gaze snapped to Zarlia, panic flashing through his fury. “You almost died too.”
The words finally broke him. Zarlia didn’t think she would ever see him like this. He looked like he was about to cry.
He turned and punched the wall.
The sound echoed through the room—bone against plaster, wood splintering. A hole appeared where his fist had landed, cracks spiderwebbing outward.
“Stetson,” Luke snapped. “Enough.”
Stetson stood there, chest heaving, knuckles bleeding, staring at the damage like he didn’t even feel it. “I failed her,” he muttered. “I failed both of them.”
Luke placed a hand on his shoulder, firm. “You’re not helping anyone like this.” He turned toward the doorway. “I’ll handle it.” Then, colder: “I’ve already sent men after those wolves. I’ll make sure they get what’s coming to them—it’s my specialty”
Stetson knew he could trust Luke with that because he was the only one who knew what hid under Luke’s calm façade.
Zarlia barely heard them. Her eyes were fixed on Mimi.
She looked so small on the bed. Pale. Still. Nothing like the loud, fearless woman who had dragged her out of danger and laughed while bleeding.
A knot tightened in Zarlia’s chest. What if she doesn’t wake up?The thought hit so hard her breath caught.
Luke noticed immediately. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer. “She’s going to be fine.” Zarlia shook her head, tears burning her eyes. “She lost so much blood. She—”
“The cuts aren’t as deep as they look,” Luke said calmly. “Werewolves bleed dramatically. It’s frightening, but she’ll heal.” The steadiness in his voice grounded her. Somehow, it kept her from falling apart. She exhaled shakily, nodding.
Then pain ripped through her stomach. Sharp. Sudden. Enough to steal the air from her lungs. Zarlia hissed, doubling slightly, one hand flying to her abdomen.
Stetson turned instantly. “Zarlia?”
She straightened too quickly. “It’s nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “Probably just adrenaline.” He didn’t look convinced, but the doctor’s voice cut through the moment.
“She’ll live,” the doctor announced as he stepped out of the room, peeling off his gloves. “She needs rest. Fresh meat. Her bandages need to be changed daily.”
Stetson’s shoulders sagged. Relief hit him like gravity. “Thank you,” he said quietly. The doctor nodded. “She’s strong. She’ll heal.”
When the room finally emptied, Stetson sat beside Mimi’s bed.
He didn’t speak. He just sat there, one large hand wrapped carefully around hers, his head bowed. The anger was gone now—burned out and replaced with something far worse.
Guilt.
Zarlia lingered at the doorway, watching him. She had never seen him like this.
Stetson—who commanded rooms without raising his voice. Who intimidated men twice his size with a glance? Who carried himself like nothing could ever truly touch him?
Now he looked… small. Broken.
“I should’ve been there,” he said quietly, as if speaking to no one. “I should’ve known.” Zarlia stepped closer. “You can’t protect her from everything.” But he shook his head. “I’m supposed to.”
He squeezed Mimi’s hand gently. “She trusted me.”
Zarlia swallowed, her heart aching. “You didn’t fail her,” she said softly. “She fought because she believed you’d come and even if she didn’t—I did”
He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed on Mimi, red-rimmed and glassy.
Outside, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Zarlia rested her hand on the doorframe, feeling exhaustion settle deep into her bones. Fear lingered, heavy and unresolved—but beneath it was something else.
A knowing. This wasn’t over.
The attack. The warning. The pain curling now and then in her stomach like a whisper of something waiting.
War didn’t always announce itself loudly.
Sometimes, it arrived bleeding and tonight, it had taken Mimi. It wasn’t all about letters anymore, there would be blood and thinking about it made Zarlia uneasy. She had never thought things would come to this.
What if they targeted her next?