All Chapters of MEND ME IF YOU CAN.: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The tavern didn’t welcome me—it studied me. Its walls, warped and darkened by years of smoke and spilled liquor, seemed to lean inward, pressing close, listening. Every glance was a blade, quick and sharp, sliding between my ribs. Every smirk was a test, a challenge, daring me to falter. I could feel it in the air—the thick, heavy silence that followed me like a shadow—the way predators circle prey, patient and merciless, waiting to see how long it takes before it bolts.I slid deeper into the haze, weaving between tables sticky with ale, each step pulling me further into the den of wolves. The reek of sweat and sour drink clung to the men packed shoulder to shoulder, their laughter too loud, too cruel, carrying a weight that pressed against my skull. My stomach churned with unease, twisting on itself like a knot pulled tighter with every step, but I forced my head high. I locked my jaw, squared my shoulders, and made them see someone who wouldn’t fold. If I looked too small, too desp

Travian’s body finally gave out. One moment he was still standing, swaying like a man trying to hold back a storm, and the next he collapsed, crumpling to the ground in a heavy heap. His knees buckled first, then his entire frame folded, his weight hitting the dirt floor with a dull finality that seemed to silence Soren’s very soul. Blood seeped from his split skin, pooling beneath him, dark and merciless, his chest rising only in shallow, ragged intervals that barely qualified as breath.The crowd erupted. A deafening roar of triumph rattled the air, boots stomped the ground in savage rhythm, fists pounded the iron bars of the cage as though demanding more blood. To them, it was victory, entertainment—a spectacle worth every coin they’d thrown on the floor. But to Soren, it was horror made flesh. Their jeers blurred into nothing, their laughter turning into hollow echoes, as if the world had caved in and left only the sight of Travian’s broken body sprawled lifelessly before him.Sor

The room had grown dim, the fading sun bleeding through the blinds in thin, golden slashes that painted long shadows across the floor. Dust motes floated lazily in the light, rising and falling like tiny ghosts in the air. The steady hum of hospital machinery filled the silence, a rhythm Soren had begun to hate yet cling to all at once.He stirred, blinking awake where his head had slumped against the mattress. His neck ached, a sharp stiffness spreading down into his shoulders, but he barely noticed. The first thing his eyes sought—and found—was Travian’s hand, still resting in his. Relief washed through him like cool water, loosening the tight knot of dread that had camped in his chest since the fight.Travian was asleep again, his breathing steady but shallow, each rise of his chest fragile as glass. His face was a map of pain—purple and black bruises spreading like spilled ink beneath his skin, swelling closing off one eye, a split lip that looked worse in the dim half-light. Sore

The morning light had spilled fully into the hospital room now, pale and relentless, crawling across the sterile white walls, touching every corner with an almost accusatory brightness. Soren hadn’t moved an inch since dawn. His body screamed in protest, muscles stiff and cramping from hours of unmoving vigilance, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave Travian’s side. Not for a moment. Not when the memory of that cage still burned behind his eyelids, every blow, every cruel laugh, every cruel shout, replaying over and over in his mind. It throbbed in his bones, a constant drumbeat of guilt he could neither outrun nor silence.He had promised. He had sworn on every fiber of his being that he would protect his brother. That promise sat on his shoulders like a weight that neither time nor sleep could lessen—but it was the only weight he could bear. The only one that mattered.Hours slipped past in a blur of antiseptic smells and muted footsteps. Nurses came and went, their voices low, their move

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t empty—it was full. Full of promises, of regrets, of a bond forged in blood and pain. For the first time, Soren wasn’t trying to fill it with excuses or bravado. He just stayed there, forehead resting close to his brother’s, listening to the shallow but steady rhythm of Travian’s breathing. Each rise and fall was a small, stubborn proof that he was still here.Travian shifted slightly, a faint grimace crossing his face. “You’re squishing me,” he muttered weakly.Soren let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, pulling back just enough to look at him. The fluorescent light above made the skin around Travian’s eyes look raw and glassy; the bandages crisscrossing his chest looked too fragile for the life they covered. “You’re lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and blood, and that’s what you’re worried about?” Soren said, trying for lightness. It cracked almost immediately.A small glimmer lit Travian’s swollen eyes. “Well… so