FRAGILE

Chapter 10: An Absent Wolf

Maximus sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the fragile figure lying in the bed beside him. His mate—small, scarred, and still unconscious—remained motionless, the only sign of life being the faint rise and fall of his chest. It had been three hours since they had arrived at the mansion, and still, his mate hadn't stirred. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing keeping Maximus from losing control, the steady rhythm the only reassurance that his mate was still alive.

"Why is he still out?" Maximus muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He hadn't taken his eyes off his mate since they had brought him in, and every second that passed without a change only deepened the knot of anxiety in his chest. His wolf was pacing, restless, panicked that they couldn't sense their mate's wolf. The absence of that connection was more terrifying than any physical injury.

The doctor had already done everything in his power—sutured the gashes, cleaned the burns, and patched up the wounds that still bled into the fragile body. Maximus clenched his fists at the memory of the rogue who had dared to lay a hand on his mate. He had given the man a swift death, a mercy he now deeply regretted. He should have made him suffer, made him feel every ounce of pain he'd inflicted.

Maximus glanced back at the unconscious figure beside him, his heart twisting with guilt and helplessness. His mate, with dark chocolate-brown hair and a tan complexion, was marked by years of torment. Scars littered his body—burns, lash marks, cruel evidence of the abuse he had endured. Piercings had been forced into his flesh, further reminders of the hell he had lived through. The doctor had suggested leaving them for now, applying a strange gel to prevent infection. But every mark, every scar, felt like a personal failure to Maximus. How could anyone do this to him?

He didn't even know his mate's name. That thought gnawed at him—the idea that he didn't know this person who was meant to be the most important figure in his life. He needed to know who he was, what had happened to him, how he could help him heal. But his wolf... his mate's wolf was silent, distant, barely there. That silence terrified Maximus more than anything.

The doctor had found puncture wounds on his mate's neck and discovered an unknown substance in his bloodstream, something likely injected to keep him woozy and weak. It was suppressing his wolf, preventing the natural healing process. The scars, the fresh wounds, and that brand on his chest—2197—were not healing like they should. That told Maximus everything he needed to know: his mate's wolf had been caged by whatever poison was in his veins.

The only thing that kept Maximus from spiraling was the faint thump of his mate's heart, a rhythm that felt too weak but still there. For now, he had to wait. And Maximus hated waiting.

Hours passed in agonizing silence. The doctor came and went, checking his mate's vitals, adjusting the monitors, and confirming the same thing over and over: his mate was alive, but the drug had to work its way out of his system. Maximus barely listened, his mind spinning with questions. What had they done to him? Why couldn't they reach his wolf? How long would it take before his mate opened his eyes?

Finally, unable to bear the sterile atmosphere any longer, Maximus spoke. "Can I bring him up to our room? I don't want him waking up here."

The doctor, a grizzled, experienced wolf who had served Maximus's pack for years, paused, considering the request. "That might be for the best," he agreed after a moment. "Moving him won't hurt his condition, but I'd recommend keeping the monitor on him. That way, we can track when he's about to wake."

Maximus nodded, relieved, as the doctor summoned two nurses to help move the equipment. Maximus leaned over his mate, slipping his arms beneath him with a gentleness that belied his size and strength. One arm under his legs, the other under his shoulders, Maximus carefully lifted him, cradling his mate's frail form against his chest.

The boy was light, too light, his body fragile and cold in Maximus' hold. Maximus clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the anger that surged within him. His mate had endured so much, and the thought of anyone daring to harm him again made Maximus' blood boil.

He carried his mate up the grand staircase of the mansion, his steps slow and deliberate as he made his way down the long hallway to their room—their room. It felt strange to think of it that way, but it was the truth. This room was where his mate belonged, with him. Safe.

Maximus reached the door, pushing it open with his shoulder, and stepped inside. The room was softly lit, warm and inviting, in stark contrast to the cold, sterile medical room they had just left. He laid his mate down on the bed, gently arranging the blankets around him before stepping back. The warmth of his mate's body against his own was already missed, but Maximus forced himself to give the nurses space to reattach the monitor.

The soft beeping of his mate's heart filled the room once again, and Maximus began to pace at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure. Time seemed to slow, every minute stretching into an eternity as he waited for any sign that his mate would wake.

And then, after what felt like an agonizing stretch of hours, something changed. The heart rate monitor's slow rhythm began to quicken, the beeps coming faster and faster. Maximus' pulse quickened along with it, hope flaring in his chest. He immediately called the doctor, informing him of the change, but his attention remained solely on his mate.

He stopped pacing, his body tense as he waited. And then, it happened.

A small whimper. Soft, barely audible, but it cut through the room like a knife. Maximus' heart clenched as he watched his mate stir, his delicate frame shifting slightly under the blankets. His eyes fluttered open—brilliant, crystal blue eyes, glazed with confusion as they blinked and adjusted to the dim light of the room.

Maximus froze, watching as his mate let out a soft snort, his brow furrowing as he took in his surroundings. For a brief moment, a small smile tugged at Maximus' lips as he watched his mate's face contort into an adorable, puzzled frown. He was still half-drunk with confusion, his mind clearly trying to piece together where he was.

But then their eyes met, and everything changed.

The confusion in his mate's eyes was replaced by something much darker—fear. His wide, beautiful eyes filled with panic, and Maximus could smell it, the unmistakable scent of terror flooding the room. His mate's chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, his body trembling under the covers. The look of fear in his mate's eyes was enough to bring Maximus' wolf roaring to the surface, fury surging within him.

Who had put this fear in his mate? Who had broken him so badly that even the sight of his true mate brought terror?

Maximus took a slow, careful step forward, trying to keep his own anger in check. He couldn't afford to scare him further. His mate was delicate, on the edge of breaking, and Maximus needed to show him that he was safe now.

"You're safe," Maximus said softly, his voice as gentle as he could make it. "No one will hurt you. Not ever again. I swear it."

But his mate didn't respond. His eyes remained wide, filled with the kind of terror that told Maximus that it would take much more than words to earn his trust. His mate had been through hell, and whoever had done this to him had torn him apart, piece by piece.

Maximus clenched his fists, his heart twisting with rage and sorrow. The monsters who had done this would pay. He would spend the rest of his life making sure of it.

But for now, his priority was his mate. Earning his trust. Showing him that he would never be alone, never be hurt, and never be afraid again.

Whoever had caused this pain would pay. Maximus would see to it personally.

They would all pay.