Chapter 17

After a few agonizing seconds of silence, every instinct in my body screamed that something wasn’t right. I shot upright in bed, the blankets falling away as adrenaline slammed into me like a freight train.

"Raymond!" I shouted into the phone, already throwing my legs over the side of the bed. "Hey, Raymond! Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

No answer.

Only the faint sound of ragged, uneven breathing crackling through the speaker.

Cold dread filled in the pit of my stomach, spreading through me as I listened to the uneven sounds at the other end of the line. I didn’t know what was happening, but the silence and strained breathing made every instinct in me scream that the little cutie needed help. I shoved my feet into my shoes so fast I nearly lost my balance, barely catching myself before I stumbled.

By then, Colt was already awake. He had sat bolt upright the moment he heard me raise my voice, the sudden movement of the bed drawing my attention for only a second before my focus returned to the phone. His eyes locked onto mine immediately, alert despite having been asleep only moments ago.

"Hey, bro, what's going on?" he asked, already moving toward me. "Is Raymond okay? Is he alright? I know he was having a rough time earlier."

"I don't know what's going on." My voice came out panicked but steady as I shoved my phone into speaker mode. "I woke up to his ringtone, and then I heard him ask for help… and then nothing. He hasn't said another word, but I can still hear him wheezing. It sounds like he's having trouble breathing."

Every shallow inhale that came through the speaker sounded weaker than the one before. It was barely audible, fragile enough that I found myself holding my breath just to hear it.

Without wasting any more time, I bolted out the door, my heart pounding violently against my ribs as I crossed the distance in seconds. 

Please… Please let him be okay. 

The desperate prayer repeated over and over in my mind as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob.

Unlocked.

Thank the Goddess.

I shoved the door open hard enough that it bounced sharply against the wall. Colt rushed in right behind me. The room was dark except for the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the window, casting pale silver across the floor and leaving the corners swallowed in shadow. 

My eyes found Raymond immediately.

He lay motionless in the center of the bed, his right arm hung limply over the edge of the mattress, his phone lying face down beside his head where it had slipped from his grasp. Sweat had completely soaked the pillow beneath him, and tiny beads continued to roll down his flushed cheeks before disappearing into the strands of his dark hair. His breathing was frighteningly shallow, each inhale accompanied by a harsh, ragged wheeze that scraped painfully against my ears.

My hand trembled slightly as I reached forward and pressed the back of it against his forehead.

“Goddess...” My voice came out choked.

He was burning up. His skin was almost scorching beneath my palm, the fever radiating through him with such intensity that the heat shocked against my own cooler skin.

Colt stepped quietly beside me and turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating Raymond’s figure. He gently lifted Raymond’s arm, turning it just enough to get a better look. The moment his eyes settled on the exposed skin, his expression hardened.

“Look at this, Draegan.”

I followed his gaze, and the sight stole the breath from my lungs.

Bruises.

Dark, terrifying ones layered over older injuries. Some were fresh, their deep purple and blue staining his pale skin, while others had already begun fading into sickly shades of green and yellow around the edges. My attention dropped lower, and my jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

His wrist. Distinct abrasions, raw and uneven, the marks wrapped completely around the joint. 

With painstaking care, Colt lowered Raymond’s arm back onto the mattress, making sure not to cause the young man any more pain than he was already enduring.

"I know he refused to go to the medical wing earlier," he said quietly, "but look at him. He's burning up, and these injuries..." His voice tightened with rage, the fury having no outlet…yet. "We can't ignore his injuries when they look like this. And this might not even be the worst of it."

I slid one arm beneath Raymond's knees and the other behind his back before lifting him carefully into my arms. He weighed far less than I expected; far too light. His body radiated heat through his shirt, his clothes damp with sweat as he shifted weakly against my chest and let out the faintest pained whimper.

"It's alright," I whispered. "I've got you."

Colt was already pulling out his phone as we hurried into the hallway.

"I'll call Monica."

I nodded once before reaching out through the link.

[Draven! Are you awake? If not, fucking wake up. Right now.]

The urgency in my voice echoed through the link, and his response came almost immediately.

[Fuck! What is it? You nearly blew my brain with your screaming. Quiet down a bit so I can process what you’re saying without you making my head explode. Now, what’s going on?]

Even through the link, I could tell he hadn't been asleep. 

Fucking workaholic. 

I looked down at Raymond. His lips had gone nearly colorless, and each breath sounded weak and strained. His eyelids fluttered sluggishly, as though he was trying to wake up, but couldn’t. I tightened my hold around him.

"Stay with me," I muttered under my breath.

At this point, I wasn't walking anymore, I was running. Every second felt too slow. Every heartbeat felt wasted as my thoughts came rapidly through the link.

[It's bad, bro. Raymond called asking for help, then went unresponsive. Colt and I went straight to his room. He has a dangerously high fever, he's soaked in sweat, and his breathing is weak and labored. Colt found bruises all over his arms… and what looked like burns wrapping around his wrist.]

Raymond shifted again, and his shirt rode up slightly against my forearm. It was only for a second, but it was enough to make my entire body go rigid.

Scars.

Bruises.

Welts.

Lacerations.

Layer upon layer of new injuries crossing over older ones until healthy skin is almost impossible to find. My breath caught painfully in my throat as I swallowed hard and forced the words out.

[Fuck… Draven… it's worse than we thought. He's covered in scars. Old ones. New ones. Bruises and marks everywhere. His skin looks like a fucking canvas painted with multiple shades. They’re fucking everywhere. Someone did a fucking number on him.]

The pack house finally came into view, though never in my life had it felt so far away. Colt and I practically flew up the front steps, and the instant my foot reached the landing, the massive front doors swung open.

Draven stood there waiting for us. His expression was calm, but the tightness in his jaw and the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

"Hey, you two sure got here fast. I wish you moved this quickly when I called you into my office." He scanned us up and down before adding, “Though with more clothing.” 

Despite everything, a breath of laughter escaped me, so faint it barely counted. "You picked one hell of a time to joke."

His smile disappeared immediately when his eyes locked onto Raymond’s unconscious body. "How is he?"

“Still unconscious.” I never slowed my pace. “His breathing sounds like shit, and the wounds on his body look like they hurt like hell. He sure as fuck could have fooled us, considering how he was still able to move around even in this condition.” I let out a laugh devoid of any humor.