Chapter 69: Chapter 69

I was jolted awake by a piercing scream. Still half-asleep and disoriented, I sprang to my feet, my eyes landing on Adelie sprawled on the floor.

The sight was something I never thought I'd witness: a grown woman on the brink of her first shift. My heart pounded in my chest, my knees felt weak.

This was something I'd only heard of in myths and legends. There were stories, documented instances, but no one I knew had ever seen it firsthand.

Adelie wasn't shifting yet. Her bones were breaking, the sound akin to wood snapping, but they didn't morph, they just dislocated and relocated.

She was writhing in agony, contorting her body to accommodate the pain. It was hard to believe that this was the worst pain she'd ever experienced.

She'd healed countless others, but the pain of shifting was unparalleled.

I remembered my own first shift as a child, but my cries were nothing compared to hers. The pain she was enduring was far worse.

I knelt beside her, wanting to help but unsure how. I was afraid of causing her more pain. I mind-linked the doctor, urging him to hurry.

My heart ached with helplessness. I didn't know how to stop this—if it could even be stopped. The feeling of impotence was overwhelming.

Despite Adelie's strength, despite all the times she'd proven her resilience, I couldn't convince myself that this time would be any different, that she would pull through.

The harsh reality was that I couldn't even lie to myself that everything would be okay.

I couldn't reassure myself that she would survive this, that it would soon be nothing more than a painful memory, a memory that would eventually fade.

I wanted to believe that she would look back on this pain as a minor inconvenience, and take pride in her survival.

I wanted to believe that Adelie would be safe in my pack, finally possessing her own wolf. That Madeline would have a form and all this pain would be worth it.

But why was I only considering the worst-case scenarios? The thought of the worst possible outcomes was agonizing, physically painful.

And because it was the most likely outcome, I despised it.

“Adelie!” I called out, but what good would it do? What could I, a mere werewolf, do when her body was being consumed by internal flames?

The doctor rushed in, Nathan and Maeve trailing behind him. Without a word, he knelt beside Adelie, a syringe in his hand.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, as if he'd had an epiphany.

He grabbed her arm as she continued to scream. He pinned her down, using his full weight, and injected something into her arm.

He held her down until she finally fell silent, her eyes closed. He moved away, allowing me to approach her.

I gently lifted her and placed her on the bed, my hand brushing her cheek.

“Won’t she shift?” I asked.

She was on the verge of shifting. She looked like a pup experiencing their first shift, except it was taking much longer for her, and nothing was happening.

He didn't respond immediately, and I turned to look at him.

“There's no need to keep her underground, it's too late for that. She can go up to your house. It won't make a difference,” he said.

“So, that's it? You just had to inject her with that?” I asked, disbelief and relief mingling in my voice.

Was that all it took to free her?

“Well then, what did you give her?” I asked. “It could help others too.”

He didn't respond, but his gaze met mine steadily.

“What did you administer to her?” I pressed him for an answer.

Why was he so silent?

“John!” I raised my voice, but I kept my anger in check. His silence was unnerving.

“She’s—” he began, then stopped himself, closing his eyes. “Alpha, she’s not shifting. She should have started by now, but she hasn’t.”

“If she were to shift now, it would kill her,” I retorted. “But if she doesn’t need to shift, that’s a good thing, right?”

“Maybe! But there’s still a chance she could survive the shift,” he yelled back.

Then there was silence. Nothing but silence after his outburst, while I tried to make sense of the fragments of information he was giving me.

“And now there isn’t?” I asked.

Was that why he was finding it so hard to tell me? Because he didn’t know how to say she was halfway gone?

I began to shake my head. I couldn’t let him say that. I needed him to tell me she was improving.

“I don’t know what triggered her shift, but if she doesn’t get it, she’ll be in pain until she gets the dose that pushes her to the brink of transformation.

“If you can get her the necessary dose, do it now, Alpha. Even if she attempts to shift, it’s better than letting her suffer. I don’t think she can endure the pain much longer,” he said.

“That’s it?” I challenged him. “There’s nothing else I can do? There must be someone who can help. I can make a call. I have allies. I can find someone,” I insisted.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor as he left.

I’d forgotten that Maeve and Nathan were also present, hearing the grim prognosis for Adelie.

What now? I looked at her, sleeping so peacefully. I lifted her, cradling her head against my chest, and carried her out into the chilly night.

It was ironic how tranquil it was outside, given that my entire world, everything I lived for, was in my arms, teetering on the brink of extinction.

I took her back to our home, where we’d grown fond of each other, loved each other in every conceivable way. Where we’d argued until we loved each other unconditionally.

Was all of that about to disappear? How could it be over when I was just beginning to grasp that it was truly real?

I’d loved my first mate, thought she was strong, brave, and courageous. But I hadn’t had you to compare her to.

You are, and always will be, my epitome of perfection, the only beauty I will ever recognize.

But how am I supposed to accept that you might leave? You can’t…I won’t let you. But who am I to stop you? Who am I to know how to save you?

Helen emerged from the hallway, and I could tell she knew. She knew Adelie was in a bad way. Helen only stood so still and composed when things were dire, and that’s exactly what she was doing now.

She simply bowed her head to us and let us pass.

I stayed by Adelie’s side, unable to sleep, pondering what to do. I reached out to Michael, but he was a nymph, not a werewolf. He wouldn’t know how to handle this.

All I knew was that I didn’t know who to call or ask for help. I didn’t, but I made Nathan go to great lengths to contact whoever he could. But who?

I lay beside her, considering every possibility. Maybe I needed to meet with Melanie, but she didn’t know where her sister was either.

I felt a slight movement beside me and saw that Adelie was waking up. I immediately mind-linked the doctor to stay by the door.

I hadn’t even let him go home, instead making him stay in my guest room.

I rose and watched her. She opened her eyes, her gaze slowly scanning the room before finally settling on me.

She didn’t utter a word. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like she was back to her old self. But then, her eyes welled up with tears.

Her gaze met mine, her face flushed and veins bulging as she battled the pain. She didn’t scream, she just silently endured.

“John!” I hollered.

He was right there, at the threshold.

Another dose of medication coursed through her veins as her eyes remained locked on mine.

“This should numb most of the pain. She won’t be very active, but she should be able to talk,” he said, hastily exiting the room.

Morning had broken and I needed to devise a plan to aid Adelie.

I approached her bed. Her eyes were still streaming tears, each one a dagger to my heart. I knelt beside her, holding her feverish, damp hand.

“I guess he’s clueless,” she murmured weakly.

“Who? The doctor?” I queried, and she nodded.

I pressed my trembling lips to the back of her hand. “No one knows, Adelie,” I confessed, the pain of speaking to her in this state hitting me like a punch to the gut.

Perhaps I was just feeling sorry for myself, thinking that silence would be easier.

“How much do you know? How bad is it?” she inquired.

Why was she asking? I had no comforting words to offer. My hands began to tremble and I fought back the tears.

I couldn’t cry—not now, not in front of her when she was in so much pain.

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” she assured me, cradling my head in her hand.

“It… it would have been better if you could shift. Now you can’t shift. You’re just stuck in the pre-shifting agony,” I admitted.

I was coming to terms with the harsh reality of watching someone you care about suffer, knowing there’s little you can do but wait.

“The pain won’t stop?” she questioned, but I remained silent.

I knew she understood.

“I need Esty. She did this to me, she can speed it up,” she stated.

“Where can I find her?” I asked.

She shook her head. “You can’t. She shows up when she pleases,” she replied, but that didn’t put my mind at ease.

“What if it takes a month?” I questioned.

“Then I’ll wait for her for a month if I have to,” she declared.

I knew she would grit her teeth and endure if she believed help was on the way. But I feared that even then, it might not be enough.

What if she didn’t survive the transformation?