The Lonely Wolf (18 page)

From an adjacent room, a doctor came out, and the group opened to let the man approach the embraced couple.

The doctor shook his head as if answering an unspoken question, then said, “I would call the aura healer.”

Silence descended upon the hallway, as a mournful procession took place. The Purist couple entered the room the doctor had vacated, and a moment later the rest of the family followed.

Quintilius’s heart broke at the thought of what the girl’s parents were going through.

“There’s nothing we can do for them.” Ludwig patted his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

They were about to reenter the waiting area, when a door was slammed and an animal growl reached them. Quintilius’s wolf stood at attention, ready to fight, and Quintilius had to contain him before he would attack the Purist father.

The man, barely in human form, ran toward Quintilius and only stopped a few centimeters from him.

Hatred and pain distorted the were-panther’s features. “I’ll kill your son, so you’ll feel what I feel.”

After enduring his so-called father’s visit and answering the fallen’s questions for hours, Lupo was drained. He hadn’t seen Jasmine since the enforcers had arrived at the scene of the accident and driven them away separately. The archangel had kept him informed about her, but he hadn’t seen the man in a while. His thoughts were scattered in several different directions, but first and foremost he feared for his mate.

When he saw the shadow darkening the floor under the door, he held his breath, knowing Ludwig Barnes must have come to give him news.

“How’s she?” Lupo asked as the door opened.

“Here you are, little brother,” Rock greeted him, then brought a finger to his mouth and tilted his head over his shoulder. “You look like shit.”

Even though Lupo knew the Reds would find him, he still had hoped it would happen in a different moment. He slightly nodded at Rock, who whispered, “I’m not alone.”

A moment later, a second Red entered the room. The man, bulkier than Rock, was one of Tancredi’s personal guards.

“Ready to come back home?” Rock asked out loud, pointing his chin at the door.

“I can’t,” Lupo said.

“Tancredi’s waiting for you downstairs,” Rock warned him, his eyes darting to the guard who didn’t utter a word, but limited himself to stare down at Lupo.

“I was arrested—” Lupo started.

With a frown, Rock opened his hands to the side. “I see no jailers.”

Lupo felt as if he were in the middle of a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. “I can’t come with you.”

“Stop joking and stand up. We’re leaving.” Rock waved his hand to signify Lupo had better hurry.

Before the big brother could say something else, the guard strode toward the bed and grabbed Lupo by the collar of his scrubs.

“Out. Now.” The guard smashed Lupo against the wall, then made to punch him in the face.

A loud roar escaped Lupo’s throat as his fangs descended and he changed. His wolf was at the guard’s jugular before the man’s fist made contact with its intended target.

Everything happened so fast, Lupo shifted and was back in his body in the blink of an eye. The only evidence he had morphed into his wolf lay on the ground in the form of his shredded clothes and ripped IV lines.

“Lupo?” With a shocked expression, Rock pointed at the body slumped over Lupo’s legs.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t kill him.” Lupo had commanded his wolf to give the man a good scare, but not to pierce his skin.

In fact, the guard stirred and pushed himself up, his hand to his neck where the wolf had pressed his fangs in a harmless bite. As he stood on uncertain legs, it was evident that the man’s demeanor had changed, from aggressive to meek. His wolf had instinctively bowed to Lupo’s, accepting the higher hierarchy.

“Crap—” Realization dawned on Rock, who cursed low as he shook his head. “
Little brother
, you’re in deeper shit than I thought.”

Lupo grabbed the linen sheet that in the melee had bundled at the foot of the bed and covered his nakedness. “You don’t know the half of it.” Looking up at the ceiling, he exhaled a long breath, then locked eyes with Rock. “I can’t come back to the Reds.” For more than one reason, but he knew none mattered to his big brother except for the undeniable fact that he was an alpha and a direct contender for Tancredi’s spot.

“I’ve never seen such control over one’s beast.” Rock didn’t lower his eyes, but he regarded Lupo differently, as if he was looking at him for the first time.

“I’m talented that way.” Lupo also heard awe in Rock’s voice and had to repress a humorless chuckle. Life sure was a cosmic joke. Only a few days ago, he would have given anything to solicit that kind of response from his big brother. He had delivered V all over Rome in the most dangerous conditions to receive praise from Rock.

A knock on the door startled everyone. A nurse entered with a tray.

“I said no visitors—” The woman’s eyes went to the men’s jackets and the Red patch baldy displayed on the black leather, and she paled. Retreating, she left the tray on the stand by the door, dishes rattling, while her free hand went to her pocket.

Her call for help was heard loud and clear from outside.

“You better leave before the cavalry arrives.” Lupo indicated the door the woman had just slammed behind her.

“You know it doesn’t end here.” Rock took the still dazed guard by his elbow and dragged him to the door. “Tancredi will exact his pound of flesh.”

“I expect nothing less from him.” Lupo brought two fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched hard.

Running steps echoed from the hallway, and his door was opened without a knock. Two enforcers entered, training their pistols at the Reds.

“We’re leaving.” Rock raised his hands and the guard followed a moment later.

“Don’t move,” one of the enforcers said.

Louder, heavier steps resonated closer, and the archangel appeared at the door, and with him Quintilius.

“What’s happening here?” Barnes asked, his cerulean eyes focused on Rock, and his voice carrying in the room like a whip.

“We heard our brother was at the hospital and paid a visit,” Rock answered, maintaining his voice firm and his body still under the cold threat of the angel’s Wrath.

Lupo’s admiration for Rock grew a notch. A lesser man would have pissed himself. Surprised, Lupo also realized that never in his previous encounters had Ludwig used his Wrath to scare him. A whole different man was dealing with Rock.

“Is that so?” Quintilius asked Lupo.

Relaxing against the headboard, Lupo crossed his arms over his chest and pointed his chin at the Reds. “Yes, just a friendly visit.”

“Get out and don’t come back.” Quintilius held the door for Rock and the guard, who were accompanied outside by the enforcers.

Before exiting, Rock turned to Lupo. “Take care.”

Lupo gave him a two-finger salute to the temple, then he sat straighter. Both the angel and Quintilius radiated a vibe Lupo didn’t like. He could smell and taste sorrow and his heart sped up as he reached his conclusion for the conjoined visit. “Jasmine—?”

The archangel stepped back as Quintilius moved forward and toward Lupo.

Still sitting on the bed, Lupo threw the thin sheet out of the way and jumped up. “Tell me.”

“Lupo, I’m so sorry—”

“No!” Lupo ran past Quintilius and pushed Barnes’s hand away when he tried to stop him.

“Wait. You’re naked,” Quintilius said, but Lupo was in the hallway before he could think, and out of the ER a heartbeat later.

Automatically following the signs on the walls, he found himself striding through the ICU’s door. His bare feet thumped down on the marble floors at the same rhythm of his heartbeats. People shied away from him as he demanded, “Where’s Jasmine Cannalis?”

A hand heavily landed on his shoulder, and he snarled without turning, charging forward, his eyes on the row of doors ahead.

“Stop,” Quintilius’s voice reached him. “Respect her parents’ grief.”

Somehow, the alpha’s words penetrated the fog surrounding Lupo’s brain, and their finality brought him to his knees. He cried then, his heart shattering in one million pieces as he howled to the Great Wolf. Strong arms circled him, and he didn’t fight them.

“Come, son.” Quintilius pulled him up as if he were a small pup.

Barely aware of his surroundings, Lupo was led back to his room. There, Quintilius steered him toward the bed, where a nurse made him wear scrubs and inserted the needle for the IV’s line. She was nervous though and had to try a few times before getting the job done. Impassively, he saw the thin line of blood running down his forearm and wiped it with his palm, before the nurse could dab it with the bundle of cotton she had hastily prepared.

The woman conferred with Ludwig and Quintilius, then left with a parting, “I’ll come back with the doctor.”

After his heart, Lupo’s mind too shattered from the unbearable pain. Living in a world without his mate was a truth he could not bear. He wasn’t built to sustain that kind of damage, and his control over reality slipped away one coherent thought at a time. His mind retreated to the only safe place left to him, the past.

Only that morning, he and Jasmine had been together, looking forward to a future that was uncertain but full of promises. They had shared thoughts, and he had felt whole, at home.

Panther mine, talk to me
, he pleaded, but silence answered his prayers.

“Lupo?” Quintilius called.

His name sounded distant, and Lupo had no desire to interact with the world outside his mind. Lost in his memory of Jasmine, he floated away, transported by dark waters deeper and deeper inside his psyche. Memories surrounded him, joyous and sad. He cherished them all, because they were hers.

The first time he caught a glimpse of her dark, enigmatic eyes. The first time they made love under the stars. Jasmine looking at him as the police car chased them. Her screams when their car rolled down the hill. Her still body when he reached for her.

Their first kiss. Their last kiss.

“Lupo?” the archangel called him from somewhere in the present.

The first time he saw her face. Her sensuous mouth. Her high cheeks. Her imperfect nose that was perfect on her face. The first time he saw her shapely legs. The first time he touched her voluptuous curves. The first time he lost himself in her scent. Her voice inside him.

“Lupo?” A third, feeble voice joined the first two.

My sweet, rebellious panther. Come back to me. From wherever you are, come back to me.

He was crying. Fleetingly, the notion he had seldom cried in his entire life passed through his mind.

“And she had that night to remember all her life,”
Jasmine’s voice echoed loud among his scattered thoughts.

I can’t accept that, my love.

“You must do something for him,” Quintilius said.

To Lupo, his words sounded nothing more than the sum of their separate letters.

“He’s catatonic,” the third voice answered. “He just lost his mate…”

Lupo’s brain caught on the meaning of the last sentence, and thought,
It can’t be true.
Desperate, he summoned Jasmine, and he would have sworn he could sense her presence, her scent, all around him.
You can’t leave me.

I won’t,
Jasmine answered
.

His broken heart slammed against his chest at hearing her voice
. Where are you?

Far away.

Find your way back to me.

Always.

Her presence receded, first her voice then her scent dimmed into nothingness.

Don’t leave me!

Lupo’s wolf ran after the small dot rapidly disappearing on the horizon of a vast plain bathed in muted grays and browns. Then the panther was gone too, leaving both Lupo and his wolf bereft. A blanket of darkness fell on Lupo. Jasmine’s voice and memories were gone. His voyage into his inner self reached a black wall, and he felt the void calling to him. Relieved he could stop thinking, he embraced it, hoping he could dissolve into the same nothingness that had claimed Jasmine.

***

“He needs time.”

“He doesn’t have time.”

“He’ll be tried for manslaughter.”

“If he doesn’t wake up soon, he won’t have a chance to defend himself.”

The black veil that had cocooned Lupo receded, and he opened his heavy eyelids one at a time. He moaned, “I’m here.”

“Lupo—”

“Quintilius?” Lupo asked, his throat sore and his head pounding.

“I’m here, son.” A warm hand squeezed Lupo’s.

Fighting against gravity, Lupo tried to move, but it felt like he was anchored down by strong, silver ropes.

“Here, let me help you,” Quintilius whispered close to Lupo’s ear.

Hoisted up by strong, yet gentle arms, Lupo found himself in a sitting position.

Quintilius smiled warmly at him. Beside him, the archangel stood with one hand laid over Quintilius’s shoulder. The fallen angel, Samuel, was also present, along with Ravenna Del Sarto, both waiting on him at the foot of a bed that didn’t resemble standard hospital material.

Apart from the alpha who kept smiling at him, everyone else wore a doleful expression.

“How do you feel?” Quintilius asked him.

“As if I drank too much—” Reality hit him then as he considered his surroundings, hoping he was still sleeping, and that he would wake from his nightmare any moment. But the people didn’t disappear, the room remained unaltered, and Jasmine was still gone no matter how many times he blinked.

“Have a sip of water.” The alpha brought a glass to Lupo’s lips.

Lupo opened his mouth, not because he wanted the water, but because he didn’t care to refuse it. He drank a few sips, then raised one hand to signal he had enough. The gesture made him notice he was wearing a shirt and his arm was free from needles. One look behind the Enforcer was enough to recognize the place.

“What am I doing back at your house?” he asked Ravenna.

“We thought it prudent to take you somewhere that was already familiar to you.” The Enforcer gave him a soft smile that resembled the ones he had seen her bestow upon her triplets.

Confused by her kindness, Lupo turned toward Ludwig. “Why?”

“Because you are under house arrest until your hearing,” Ludwig answered.

His gaze roaming from one person to the other, Lupo saw that Quintilius had a beard and he did a double take. He didn’t remember Quintilius having one when he had entered his hospital room earlier.

“When did you move me here?” Lupo asked the werewolf, who wore crumpled clothes and had dark shadows under his eyes.

Quintilius hesitated, and Ludwig squeezed his shoulder as if to give him the strength to answer, “Two days ago.”

The room spun around him, and he let his head down on the pillow, focusing on the Murano chandelier on the ceiling. “Jasmine,” he murmured her name, tears spilling down his face in long streams.

“Her family held a private funeral yesterday,” Quintilius said.

“She can’t be gone.” Covering his eyes with his hand, he shook his head.

A heavy silence followed his statement. No one dared to say the occasional platitude to make him feel better, and Lupo was grateful for their tact. Deep hollowness excavated him from the inside out and the pain went beyond physical.
I can’t survive without you, my panther. Please, talk to me. I need to hear your voice one more time.