SORA. I got out of the laundry room and…the basket dropped from my hands, tumbling, spilling the clothes. “Zane,” I said, my voice tense with concern, racing toward him. His skin was cool, clammy, but the heat coming off of him was unnatural. “Sora,” he said again, his head lolling on my shoulder. His arms closed around me, a desperate, holding-on hug. All his strength had gone, leaving only a dread feebleness. My heart pounded an anxious dance against my ribs. He was an Alpha. Alphas did not get sick like this. “We need to get you to bed.”We made our way up the stairs, half carrying, half dragging him, and he mumbled something inaudible. His legs worked like wooden stilts, awkward and uncoordinated. Every step was a fight. The grand staircase felt endless. Then the door of his bedroom opened from my push, shutting behind us, as I took him to his bed. “Lie down,” I said, gently.He collapsed to the edge of the mattress, his whole body collapsing forward. I was kneeling then
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