Chapter 0281

The explosion sent bodies flying through the air like ragdolls. My vision cleared just in time to see Seraphina's unconscious form sprawled across my chest. Then the sound hit me - a soul-shattering wail that made my ribs constrict.

I scrambled upright, cradling Seraphina against me. Around us, fae warriors and werewolves were staggering to their feet, dazed. The source of that terrible sound became clear - Evelyn. She clutched Gregory's motionless body, rocking violently as primal grief poured from her lips.

No. Not Gregory.

Adrian hauled himself up first, rushing to pull Evelyn into his arms. That sound... I knew it too well. The sound of a bond snapping. The sound of a heart being ripped in half. Whatever detonated wasn't a bomb - it was Evelyn's power erupting when she realized her father was gone.

I looked down at Seraphina. She'd sensed it coming. Disobeyed my orders to stay back. Now her back was shredded, but she still breathed. The pack hospital. Now.

The canyon looked like the aftermath of a wildfire, ash swirling thick in the air. Evelyn's outburst had vaporized the remaining vampires. Our forces were stirring, but where Seraphina's shield hadn't reached, dozens of Blackthorn wolves lay unmoving. Maybe their pack bond would spare them the worst.

Alistair reached Gregory's body. The mighty Alpha collapsed beside his oldest friend, gathering the lifeless form against his chest. Even from here, I could see his shoulders heaving.

I stood with Seraphina in my arms. Adrian met my gaze across the battlefield. The war was won, but our mates needed us. A silent understanding passed between us before I turned and ran.

"Nightshade! Fall back to territory lines!" I barked at every warrior I passed. "Med teams incoming!"

The packhouse grounds showed signs of struggle when I arrived. Good. The guards I'd left had held. I mind-linked every able wolf to triage the wounded, ignoring how that term wouldn't apply to those who'd lost their mates. Werewolves didn't survive such losses. Not really. Gregory had only lasted this long for Evelyn's sake. My father... hadn't even tried.

The hospital doors burst open under my shoulder. "I need a medic NOW!"

Dr. Whitmore materialized instantly. "This way, Alpha." He guided me to a treatment room where I laid Seraphina facedown on the table.

Machines beeped ominously as they hooked her up. Slow pulse. Shallow breathing. An oxygen mask fogged with each weak exhale. Someone thrust sweatpants at me - when had I lost my clothes? - but I refused to budge from her side.

Hours later, they'd stabilized her, bandaged the wounds, flipped her onto her back. "Why isn't she healing?" My voice sounded raw.

"Unknown at this stage," the doctor admitted. "More tests—"

Genevieve appeared, gripping my shoulder. "Sebastian. Shower. I'll watch her."

I shook my head.

"You're covered in gore and reek of death," she said bluntly. "If she wakes to that stench, it'll send her right back into shock."