Triple Alpha's Threat

(GN) - Ch 117 - Warning

Kiera POV

"Quick! He needs help!" I screamed, the urgency slicing through the chaotic air, summoning nurses who sprinted towards us. Chase's head rested in my lap, his once formidable frame now drenched in sweat, every muscle betraying him in spasms of agony.

"Stay with me just a little longer," I whispered, the words a desperate prayer as I clung to him, willing him to hold on.

Elizabeth, a comforting beacon amidst the turmoil, knelt beside us, her hand hovering over Chase's chest like a hesitant prayer. But Athena bristled with a primal instinct inside me, releasing a growl of warning.

"Sorry," Elizabeth murmured, retracting her hand with a cautious respect. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," I admitted, my heart aching as I searched Chase's weary face for signs of hope. He seemed whole, yet I knew the true battle waged unseen, hidden within the depths of his wounded spirit. "Do you think I did this?" I asked, my voice trembling with fear and doubt. Did I unknowingly harm my mate?

"We need to get him inside, Luna," one of the nurses urged, and I reluctantly eased Chase's head onto the ground, my fingers lingering for a moment, reluctant to remove contact with his body.

"Be careful," I pleaded as six men strained to lift his heavy form.

"We will take care of him. I promise," Maggie reassured me, her words a balm to my frayed nerves. "He probably just needs an IV and some rest," she added, her voice laced with a hint of reassurance, a gentle attempt to calm the storm raging in my eyes. I nodded in acceptance, but deep down, I knew Chase needed more than just fluids coursing through his veins.

"Come," Elizabeth's touch was a gentle anchor, guiding me with a steady hand as we trailed behind Chase's imposing, yet now limp, figure. "Let them tend to him, and then you can be beside him until he wakes. He's one of the three strongest Alphas I know. Chase will pull through," she reassured me.

Once in the hospital room, I stood frozen in disbelief, silently observing the flurry of activity surrounding Chase. My heart weighed heavy with worry and confusion as tubes snaked across his body, monitors beeped rhythmically, and an IV dripped life into his veins. Yet amidst the chaos, his fingers twitched at my touch, a tiny flicker of hope amidst the overwhelming uncertainty.

"He needs rest, but he'll be okay. His healing isn't as swift as it should be, especially for an Alpha, but it's happening," the pack doctor assured me before leaving me alone with Chase.

"You better not die on me," I whispered fiercely, my words a desperate plea to the universe as I gazed down at his still form. But he remained motionless, a silent sentinel in the dimly lit room. Werewolves didn't get sick or injured to a point where we couldn't repair ourselves. Only silver could permanently damage us, and the doctor confirmed he wasn't wounded, at least not outwardly. Somehow, I knew the moment I saw him that this was because of my rejection. I cursed our bond, our destiny, and now Chase was paying the price because of it.

I studied his broad, muscular frame, laid out on the hospital bed, vulnerable and helpless. At that moment, the complexities of our relationship faded into insignificance, replaced by a primal need for his presence, for his strength to anchor me amidst the swirling confusion.

With a trembling hand, I climbed onto the bed, careful not to disturb the array of wires and tubes that tethered him to life. Nestling myself against his side, I cradled his arm, seeking solace in the warmth of his body.

"I'm so sorry, Chase," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the hum of machinery. "I was angry at you for lying to me, but I could never intentionally hurt you like this. Please, wake up so I can properly yell at you," I pleaded, the words a whispered prayer into the stillness of the room, hoping against hope for a response, for a sign that he was still with me, fighting to come back to life.