Saving Bennett Reid (Book 3)

Unhinged (Part 2)

(Carter)

The white panel lights were blinding. My head was throbbing something awful, a sharp shooting pain jetting through my skull with each subtle shake. Every muscle in my body strained with each movement so I'd settled for simply lying still with my eyes closed.

I could hear talking all around me, but they mostly kept it hushed by order of the pack's doctor when I'd complained about the headaches. I had been tranquilized in the woodland and then transported to the medical building in Marcana's pack territory. Roughly one hour ago, I had woken up and simply listened to everyone speak, complaining only once about the biting headache.

In my right hand, I'd been clutching onto the black-beaded cord that held the two rings. Nobody took it from me, and I don't think they'd try. It was all I had left of him until I finally lost it. The mark would begin to fade and once it disappeared, I'd lose all sense of reality.

I would become absolutely feral.

I didn't want to be here. On this bed, in this gaudy hospital gown receiving treatment. Hell, I didn't even want to be alive.

Brushing my thumb over the rings, fresh tears sprung to my eyes and I couldn't hold it back anymore. I missed him so damn much. I craved to hold him in my arms and hear him speak to me. Going without him was torture and the last pieces of the bond that still hung on was steadily eroding, fading into obscurity as though he had never been here in the first place.

The tears fell. With everyone too caught up in speaking, my dad with the doctor, and I knew Jaxon was somewhere in here too. So was my mother. But they had been caught up in listening to what the pack's medical official had to say giving me a chance to completely indulge the grief that ripped through me.

I'd succumbed to the animal instinct and hadn't allowed myself to grieve over the loss of my mate.

My shoulders shook as I wept silently, throat constricting tightly, and my abdomen throbbed with pain in my effort to silence my sobs. Mom was the first to notice as she had been seated on a chair to the left of the bed, one hand holding onto mine. She must've felt me shake because her attention suddenly snapped away from the pack's medical official.

I heard her rise from the chair. Mom didn't say anything as she reached out, clambering onto the bed to lie next to me. Soundlessly, my mother lifted my shoulders and pushed me forward giving herself enough room to wriggle in and lean against the pillows.

My head fell against her shoulder and mom cradled me closer. She brushed her hand through my hair and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Still, she didn't say anything.

There wasn't a need for words.

I was a broken beta waiting for an inevitable end. How could she say anything when she knew that no matter what they did, she'd eventually have to bury me?

My parents were preparing to live every good parent's nightmare.

Mom hugged me tightly and rocked me back and forth. I'd caught onto her chemo signal strongest in that moment. Terrified was an understatement but for my sake, she was trying to hold together, to be that pillar of support I'd probably need. A large part of me didn't want her to feel like this. They were well aware of the inevitable and I knew it was absolute torture for them to sit back and watch me slowly lose my mind.

They felt helpless. All my life, they had been there at every turn to help in any way that they could, constantly helping me keep those animal instincts in check. And suddenly, it was all out of their control. There was nothing they could do, and I hated that they had to see this side of me.