Chapter 55 Chapter 55
Tiana
I almost scoffed.
‘I am not a child’ when acting like one. Such hypocrisy.
I stood outside the tent for a long moment after he dismissed me, staring at the firelight dancing across the clearing.
Normal. Everything looked so normal.
Except for the Alpha sitting alone on that log, bleeding through his shorts and refusing help because his pride—or his anger, or whatever twisted thing was eating at him—wouldn’t let him accept it from me.
Each repetition of his words echoed in my head, driving the knife deeper.
I wanted to scream at him, then grab his shoulders and shake him until he understood that Kaius was just a friend and that I hadn’t done anything wrong. He needed to be told that his jealousy was tearing us apart.
But what would be the point?
He’d already decided what he believed. And nothing I said would change that.
I turned and ducked back into the tent, letting the canvas flap fall closed behind me.
The space felt smaller now. Two bedrolls lay side by side, close enough that I’d be able to hear every breath he took when he finally came inside.
If he came inside.
Maybe he would sleep outside just to avoid me.
I sat on the edge of my bedroll, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The position made me feel small. Like if I made myself compact enough, maybe the hurt wouldn’t find as much surface area to land on.
Outside, I could hear the low murmur of voices. Someone laughed and a response followed. Normal camp sounds that should have been comforting only made me feel more isolated.
This was my first time at a border camp. Also, my first time this far from the pack house since… well, since I’d been brought there as a fourteen-year-old orphan.
I should have been taking it all in. Particularly, I have been curious about pack life beyond the pack house walls.
Instead, all I could think about was this male wolf outside who had made me come apart in his hands last night and couldn’t even stand to let me touch him now.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I lay back slowly, pulling the thin blanket over myself even though the evening air was still warm. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself into sleep.
But every sound made me hyperaware. Every footstep outside the tent made my pulse quicken, wondering if it was him. If he was finally coming inside.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
The camp gradually quieted as wolves settled down for the night. And still, Zane didn’t come.
Maybe he really was going to sleep outside.
It seemed as though he preferred to sit on that log all night, bleeding and in pain, than share a tent with me.
The thought shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
Eventually, exhaustion won. My body, still recovering from last night and the long journey today, dragged me down into fitful sleep.
I woke to movement.
Not sound, exactly. A disturbance in the air that pulled me from sleep with my heart already racing.
The tent was dark now. The fire outside had burned down to embers, leaving only the faintest glow filtering through the layer of our tent.
And beside me, Zane was shaking.
Not the seizure-like shaking, more of a constant tremor that ran through his entire body, making the bedroll rustle with each shudder.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, and I could make out his form. He lay on his back, one arm thrown over his face, his chest rising and falling with harsh, uneven breaths.
The scent of blood was stronger now. Accompanied by some other scent that made my wolf whine with distress.
It could only mean one thing.
Silver.
Or wolfsbane.
Or both.
My breath caught.
Normal wounds healed quickly for wolves. Most cuts closed within hours. Even deeper injuries mended overnight, especially for someone as strong as an Alpha.
But Zane’s wound wasn’t healing.
Which meant whatever had caused it wasn’t normal. It was silver. Or wolfsbane-laced. Something designed specifically to hurt him.
And he’d been hiding it, running with it, and refusing treatment.
Idiot, I thought with a surge of anger that was almost strong enough to override my fear.
He shuddered again, harder this time, and a pained sound escaped him, barely more than a breath.
I moved before I could think better of it.
Closing the small distance between our bedrolls, I pressed myself against his side. My arm came around his waist carefully, avoiding the injured thigh. My head found the space between his shoulder and chest.
His body was burning up. Fever-hot despite the tremors.
I wrapped myself around him as much as I could, offering what little warmth and comfort my chubby frame could provide. My wolf surged forward, lending her strength, trying to ease his pain through the bond we shared.
For a moment, he didn’t react.
Then his body went rigid.
His hand came up, catching my wrist in an attempt to pull me away.
“Don’t,” he rasped.
“Shhh.” I kept my voice soft. Barely above a whisper. “Please. Just… stay still.”
“Tiana—”
“You’re burning up.” My fingers found his chest, and I felt the rapid hammer of his heart beneath my palm. “And you’re shaking. The wound isn’t healing, is it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Was it silver?” I asked quietly. “Or wolfsbane?”