Chapter Eighty-Seven
The hospital hall was too bright, too sterile, too quiet for the storm raging in their bond.
Avery paced a line into the floor, her boots clicking sharp against the tile. Up and down, up and down, her hands twisting together as if she could wring the fear out of her body. Riven and Auron tried to calm her, their voices low and steady, but she couldn’t stop moving.
Remy and Elena hovered between them all, fussing, pressing cups of tea into hands that barely noticed, whispering reminders to breathe.
Molly was curled up on Kael’s lap, her face buried in his chest, rocking as sobs shook her. Kael held her tightly, his wolf straining against the bond, but he kept his emotions locked down. He had to be her anchor.
Mark stood with Dean Errol and a council member, their voices hushed but urgent as they spoke of security, of breaches, of how this could have happened. After Avery’s tenth turn down the hall, Auron broke away to join them, his expression grim.
Then it happened.
Avery froze mid-step, her face crumpling as a raw wail tore from her throat. She felt it — Lucien’s heartbeat faltering, stopping for a breathless moment. The sound of her grief echoed down the hall, pulling every head toward her.
Riven caught her before she collapsed, holding her against his chest, whispering fiercely, “He’s still here. Hold on. He’s still here.”
The bond flickered, faint but present. Lucien was fighting.
The hours dragged. Council members milled about, speaking with hospital staff, demanding updates on the guards, on any evidence left behind by the shades. The air was thick with tension, every second stretching into eternity.
Remy and Elena pressed tea into Avery’s hands again, into Molly’s, into Kael’s, urging them to drink, to breathe, to stay upright.
But the wait was excruciating. Finally, the doors opened.
A doctor stepped out, a healer at his side. His face was tired, but his voice was steady.
“Lucien is stable,” he said. “We were able to repair the arteries that were nicked. The gashes are already beginning to heal. He’s resting now.”
The bond surged with relief, a wave that nearly knocked them all to their knees. Avery sagged against Riven, tears spilling freely, while Molly clutched Kael tighter, sobbing into his shirt.
But the doctor’s voice continued, softer now.
“The guard you worked on, Lady Avery… he is still touch and go. He lost too much blood. We will do everything we can, but I cannot promise he will make it through the night. The other guard is stable and should be released tomorrow.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Relief and grief, hope and fear, all tangled together.
Lucien was alive.
But the cost of that survival was still being counted.
The moment the door opened, Avery was through it. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t breathe — she went straight to Lucien’s bedside, lowering the rail and sliding in beside him. Her hand found his chest, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, as if she could anchor him to this world by sheer will.
Molly slipped in on the other side, curling against him, silent tears streaking her face. The bond thrummed with their grief and their prayers, a steady hum of stay, stay, stay.
Riven and Kael hovered close, their presence protective, their eyes never leaving Lucien’s pale face. They were warriors, but in this moment, they were brothers, helpless but unyielding.
Remy and Elena arrived with food, their voices gentle but firm. “You need to eat. All of you.”
Kael coaxed Molly into a chair, pulling her into his lap and feeding her small bites, murmuring reassurances against her hair. She resisted at first, but his steady patience wore her down.
Riven tried the same with Avery, but she shook her head fiercely, clutching Lucien’s hand.
“I’m not leaving him,” she whispered. “Not for food. Not for sleep. Not for anything. Riven — talk to Errol. Move my exams. I’ll take them here if I have to, but I’m not leaving this room until he does.”
Her voice cracked, but her resolve was iron.
Riven studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll handle it.”
He ate quickly, then slipped out in search of Auron and Errol, his shoulders squared with purpose.
Avery’s orders were clear: the others would finish their exams, but Lucien would never be left alone. Not for a moment. One of them would always be here, tethering him to the bond, reminding him he was not alone.
Molly reached across Lucien’s chest, her fingers brushing Avery’s. They clung to each other, silent tears falling, while their mates stood guard over them both.
The next morning, Lucien’s family arrived. The room filled with sobs and embraces, the relief of seeing him alive tempered by the sharp edge of anger.
“How could this happen?” his mother whispered, her voice breaking. “On campus grounds? With guards?”
No one had an answer.
The tension hung heavy, grief and fury braided together. The council would demand explanations, the family would demand justice, and the five of them would demand blood.
But for now, Avery only held tighter to Lucien’s hand, her vow unshaken.
She wasn’t leaving.