22: The Medical Wing

I’m pacing the length of the great hall for what has to be the hundredth time and my legs are starting to ache but I can’t make myself sit down because if I stop moving I’m going to lose my mind thinking about what’s happening out there in the dark.

Kade’s been on his phone for the past ten minutes speaking rapid-fire what I came to know was Italian and I catch maybe one word in five but his tone tells me everything I need to know, things aren’t going well.

He notices me staring and ends the call with a sharp “Capito” before shoving the phone in his pocket.

“Italian?”

“Yeah the pack has Italian blood in it.” He runs a hand through his hair.

That explains Rhys’s facial features and olive complexion I thought to myself.

“How many are there?” I ask because I don’t actually care about ancestral history right now. “Rogues I mean, how many?”

“Too many.” His expression is grim. “Viktor brought his entire force, this isn’t a skirmish, this is a full assault.”

I move back to the window and press my hands against the glass and it’s cold enough that I can feel it through my palms but I still can’t see anything beyond the floodlights, just shapes moving too fast in the darkness and the occasional flash of eyes reflecting light.

The sounds are worse than not being able to see, snarling and howling and sometimes a yelp that gets cut off too quickly and makes my stomach twist into knots.

“Which side is winning?” I ask without turning around.

“It’s not that simple—”

“Which side is winning, Kade?”

“I don’t know.” His reflection appears in the glass next to mine. “Pack fighting is different than human combat, there’s no front lines or strategic positions, it’s just chaos until one side breaks.”

“And if our side breaks first?”

“Then Viktor’s wolves get inside the compound.” He says it matter-of-factly like he’s discussing the weather. “But Rhys won’t let that happen, he’ll die before he lets them breach the walls.”

That’s supposed to be reassuring but all I can think about is Rhys dying out there while I stand here safe and useless behind stone walls doing absolutely nothing.

“I can’t watch,” I say and step back from the window because Kade’s right, it is driving me crazy.

Kade checks his phone again and his jaw tightens. “Come with me, my attention is needed in the medical wing and you can’t stay here alone.”

We take an elevator in the east wall and it descends two floors with a mechanical whir that’s too loud in the silence between us.

When the doors open the smell hits me first, blood and antiseptic then the sound of someone screaming.

The medical wing is more like an actual hospital with rows of beds and pack members everywhere in various states of injury, and there’s a woman in her fifties with gray hair pulled back in a severe bun barking orders at younger wolves who are scrambling to follow them.

“Judith,” Kade calls out and the woman’s head snaps up and I can see blood splattered across her face and the front of her scrubs.

“I need hands, where the hell is everyone?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before turning back to her patient. “This one’s got silver in his shoulder, I can’t get it out without more light, someone find me a better goddamn lamp.”

“I can help,” Kade starts but Judith cuts him off without looking up.

“You’re needed upstairs on communications, get out of my way before you become a patient too.”

The doors burst open and two wolves carry in a stretcher between them and the kid on it can’t be older than nineteen and there are claw marks across his chest so deep I can see white bone through the red.

They set the stretcher down on an empty bed and immediately turn to leave and I watch as the kid’s eyes roll back in his head and his breathing goes shallow and rapid.

“Someone needs to help him,” I say but no one’s listening because Judith is still working on the first wolf and everyone else is running between patients and no one’s even looking at the kid who’s clearly dying.

I grab a stack of towels from a metal cart and press them against the worst of the wounds on his chest and his whole body jerks under my hands and his eyes fly open and lock onto mine.

“Hey, stay with me,” I tell him and press harder even though blood is already soaking through the towels and onto my hands. “What’s your name?”

“Max—” It comes out as a gasp.

“Okay Max, I’m Astrid and you’re going to be fine but I need you to keep your eyes open.” I’m reaching for more towels with one hand while keeping pressure with the other. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen—”

“First battle?”

“Yeah—” He tries to sit up and I push him back down as gently as I can.

“Don’t move, you’re going to make it worse.” The towels are completely soaked now and I grab more and press them over the first set. “Talk to me about something, anything, do you have family here?”

“My mom—she’s gonna kill me—” He laughs and then winces. “Told her I could handle it—”

“You did handle it, you’re still breathing aren’t you?” I can feel my arms starting to shake from holding pressure but I can’t let up. “What does your mom do?”

“She runs the kitchens—makes the best carbonara—” His voice is getting weaker.

“Then you need to stay alive so you can have some, I bet she’s going to make your favorite when you get out of here.” I’m looking around for help but everyone’s still busy with other patients. “Max, keep talking to me, tell me about the carbonara.”

“She uses—” His eyes start to close.

“No, eyes open, tell me about the carbonara Max.”

Judith appears next to me so suddenly I jump and nearly lose my grip on the towels.

“You have medical training?” She’s staring at me like I’ve just appeared out of thin air.

“No but I have hands and he’s bleeding everywhere and no one was helping him.” It comes out sharper than I intended. “What do I do?”

She blinks once and something shifts in her expression, like she’s seeing me as a person instead of just the human who caused all this mess.

“Keep pressure exactly where you are, don’t let up even if your arms feel like they’re going to fall off.” She’s already pulling on gloves and grabbing supplies. “Talk to him, keep him conscious, if he passes out he might not wake up.”

For the next twenty minutes my world narrows down to Max’s face and the towels under my hands and the constant stream of words coming out of my mouth about anything I can think of.

I ask him about his favorite food, his least favorite chore, whether he prefers summer or winter, if he’s ever been outside the pack territory, what he wants to do when he’s older, anything to keep him talking and conscious while Judith works.

She’s explaining something about silver poisoning and how young wolves don’t have the healing strength of older pack members and how if she doesn’t get all the silver out he’ll die from blood loss before his body can even start to repair itself.

“Hold this,” she says and shoves something metal and bloody into my free hand.

“What is it?”

“Retractor, I need to see deeper, hold it steady and don’t let go.”

I hold it even though my hands are shaking and there’s so much blood I can’t tell what I’m actually holding onto and Max is making sounds that I never want to hear another person make again.