Time of death

Vera

I lie there with my eyes shut, letting the last dregs of adrenaline drain out of me. My breath comes in ragged pulls, and a high whine sits in my ears from pushing my body past every limit I had. When my pulse finally starts to slow, I lift my lids and force myself upright. Every muscle screams in protest.

The ones who had been in the clearing have all crowded around Noah. Eli. Me. And the beast. Now that it's out in the open, some stare at it with curiosity, others with plain fear. A few are bold enough to prod it with their toes, checking that it's truly gone. The thing doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just lies there, a heap of what used to be a nightmare.

Noah is stretched out beside me, still wearing his lycan shape. I rest my palm against his brow and wait for him to open his eyes.

We did it.

We actually fucking did it.

Someone in the crowd lets out a howl of pure joy, and it catches like wildfire. More howls follow, then more. I can't help but grin at the sound. Around me, the wolves begin to shift back, laughing and shouting at the top of their lungs. I keep forgetting how little they care about being naked.

I drop my gaze, cheeks warm, and turn my attention to Noah. He's watching me already, those black lycan eyes slowly bleeding back into the hazel I've come to love so much. He's about to shift when Lucas jogs over, human again, carrying clothes for his friends. I slap my hands over my eyes, still sitting on the ground, while Noah and Eli dress fast.

Then Noah's palms are on my cheeks, pulling my hands away from my face. His eyes hold so much love, and something else. Pride, maybe. More than anyone has ever aimed at me before.

"You did it, Vera. You fucking did it."

And before I can answer, he kisses me.

It's everything I ever imagined a kiss could be. More than that. Fireworks go off behind my eyes, and heat spreads through every inch of me. How did I ever think I could live a whole life without this?

I kiss him back harder, and something hot pools low in my belly. If we don't stop, I might honestly forget we're standing in a clearing full of pack members with a dead monster right there beside us.

Noah pulls back and presses his forehead to mine. We're both wrecked, bleeding, struggling to breathe. None of it matters right now.

With the beast dead on the ground and the pack cheering around us, it feels like someone lifted a mountain off our shoulders.

The crowd shifts all at once, and our heads turn. Noah helps me to my feet just as Sofia steps into the clearing, Alex right behind her, each of them holding a baby.

Her dress is ruined, blood dried along the hem. Her face is puffy, her hair a wild mess when it's usually perfect. And the twins, gods, they've clearly just been born. They haven't even been cleaned up yet. Sofia looks swollen, tear-streaked, and more than anything, weak.

"Brothers and sisters. There will be a time to celebrate. For now, we gather around the pyre and bring our warriors home."

Every face in the crowd falls. The joy of killing the beast had blinded us, for a moment, to what it cost. I think about our wolves on the ground, empty of life, empty of soul, and my stomach knots itself tight.

Her words do their job. The crowd breaks apart, obeying their Alpha. I stay where I am, watching her eyes sweep over the gathered pack. They land on me. The second our gazes meet, I can see she's about to cry. She won't let her pack see any more weakness. She turns and walks out of the clearing, Alex close at her side.

I look to the lycans. No words needed. They know to follow me. I let go of Noah's hand, guilt chewing at me for not thinking about what comes after a battle.

I decide to be useful and head for the clinic to see how bad things got.

When I walk in, my heart drops. Beds are full. Wolves are sitting on the floor waiting for someone to tend them. The elders, once doctors and nurses, have come out to help.

I push through the corridors. The clinic isn't just packed, it's chaos. People run in every direction with no clear plan. Where the hell is Doctor Owens?

I spot Violet working on a warrior with a gash so deep it nearly took his leg. She's stopped the bleeding, but he needs surgery fast.

"Where is Doctor Owens? Who's running the clinic?"

She looks at me, and there's pity in her eyes.

"He's in surgery."

Well. That's not strange at all. I give her a confused look, not getting the sorrow on her face.

"Vera," she says, taking my hand, "he is in surgery."

It takes a second for the words to land. This can't be happening.

"He heard what you were going to do. He wanted to be there, just in case. Just in case you needed him."

We share a long look. One I know too well. The odds aren't in his favor. Panic claws up my throat.

"Go. I've got this. O.R. 4."

I run. Through the halls, around the crowds, up the stairs, sprinting to the third floor. I burst into the surgery room, muscles burning, just as everyone is peeling off their gloves. And I hear it. That long, flat beep of the machine. No heartbeat.

Time of death, eighteen forty-two.