Silver Survivors

Removing the bullet was supposed to be the easy part.

It isn’t.

Elder Hilda stays in the bunker to look after Aunt Margo. The Healer also provided me with clean clothes and the tools I need to heal Will. Ash went to lock up the (hopefully) still-paralyzed Kade in a room upstairs and stand guard. She said she’d try to contact the detective again to get an update on the mercenaries and the Argent Pack.

And me?

Well, I’ve been busy pulling a lump of silver and lead out of the man I love.

I’ll spare you the grisly and gruesome details of the most traumatizing fifteen minutes of my life. Suffice it to say the process involves a fair amount of blood, sweat, and tears. Will keeps his eyes trained on me the entire time, and he bites back his cries as much as he can.

But there’s no time to rejoice now that it’s done. Will leans back against the dining room wall, shirtless and shaky. Even with accelerated werewolf healing, the wound is bad. Really damn bad.

Will smirks slightly at me as the bullet clatters onto the marble floor, though the expression is shadowed with pain and exhaustion.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to pass out over the sight of a little blood, princess.”

I smile through pursed lips, too weary to laugh but too worried to let him see it.

“Who, me? I’m not the one that looks ready to faint,” I tease him with a pointed glance, reminding him that he’s under strict orders to remain conscious.

But he’s lost too much blood, and I see the toll it’s taking on him. He can’t hold on much longer, and I take the small glass vial in my hands, trying to keep them from trembling.

“Please tell me that’s a magic potion that’s going to make me feel better,” he says, but the grin falls from his lips when he sees the look in my eyes. “Jane, look at me. What is it?”

“It... it is a magic potion that could make you feel better. We have to apply it to the wound, and you’ll be fully recovered within less than an hour,” I tell him, chewing on my lower lip.

“That’s great.”

“As long as it doesn’t kill you.”

A second of surprise and then hope flickers in his eyes, brighter than fear.

“That’s less great,” he says, but he reaches for the little bottle. His hands are cold as he pries it from my blood-covered fingers. “But I’ll take my chances. My fight’s not over yet.”

No, it isn’t. We didn’t know it at the time, but from the moment we met, we’ve been caught in a war we didn’t even understand. But we’ve made it this far. Together.

“Our fight. You’re not in it alone. My battles are yours, and yours are mine.”

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his long black hair as I pull him towards me. He rests his forehead against mine until our breaths mingle in the small space between our lips. I take in his scent, his touch, losing myself in the feeling of him.

“You are mine, Will Gray. Or Will Blackthorn. Whatever you choose, you are my angel, and we fight together until the end.”

He closes his eyes with a soft sigh, as though my words were a lullaby that brought him the peace and rest he longed for.

“And you are mine, little wolf.”

He pulls away, and I cling to him intently as he uncorks the glass bottle.

“Don’t look so worried. We’ve been through worse,” he says with a half-hearted chuckle, examining the contents of the vial.

“Me? Worried? I just removed a bullet from an open wound. I’m basically a badass,” I snort.

“You really are, you know? You’re the strongest person I know,” he says without a trace of mockery.

I love his smile. I love that roguish little curl of his lip and the mischievous, prideful glint in his bright blue eyes. I love our cheesy banter and his terrible jokes. I love that he flirts and teases when most others would lament and weep. I love how he chuckles and challenges me, and never gives up.

This is no time to grieve.

“We’re survivors, you and I. And our fight has only just begun,” he tells me, and it somehow sounds like a promise.

I give him a subtle nod and rest my hand atop his.

Together, we pour the entire content of the vial straight into the bullet wound. Will winces as the shimmering liquid soaks his skin and swirls into his blood.

The effects kick in almost instantly. A shock runs through him, and then all I can do is watch in horror as his muscles stiffen. His eyes widen, his body contracts, and his breath quickens as the silver liquid courses through him, half healing potion and half poison. He doubles over, and I grab him by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey, hey. Will. You’re okay. I’m right here,” I whisper, my words quick and jumbled.

Will collapses on his side, falling onto my lap, and I wrap my arms around him.

“I’m right here with you. Just breathe. You can get through this.”

I slide my fingertips across his forehead, smoothing his furrowed brow as he clenches his eyes shut and shivers. Some of the tension fades from his expression under my touch. I stay there, holding him for a bit, but it feels like forever.

Watching someone you love suffer; it does something strange to a person’s perception of time. It slows down, becoming louder and longer somehow. Will’s tremors and panting only last a short while, but my helplessness feels endless.

Just a bit longer.

He just has to hold on long enough for the moonflower to kick in. I caress and soothe what I can, whisper reassuring words into his ear as he clings to me.

At last, his glistening muscles relax ever so slightly. We’re both quiet for a moment, and then Will takes a deep, shaky breath. He blinks a few times as though to clear away the fog.

A few minutes of relief and rest later, the wound on his waist stops bleeding, and Will’s eyes meet mine.

“Hey you,” I say softly, pressing a feather-soft kiss against his forehead. “How do you feel?’

“Meh. That wasn’t so bad.”

He smiles up at me, still sweating, but his breathing has steadied somewhat.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Before he can retort, there’s a loud bang from somewhere else in the manor. I whirl around at the noise. It sounds like a door has just been thrown open or flung right off its hinges.

“What was that?”

My chest tightens and Will struggles to sit up. He’s still far too weak, but already some of the color is returning to his face. I help him up, my focus darting back toward the door.

“I think Kade just woke up.”