Give Me Courage (Give Me Series #4)

22 - Close Call

The incision knife in Deaton's hand cautiously lowered down to Liam's naked torso. His body laid flat on the lab table in the main room of the animal clinic, surrounded by everyone that found him, unconscious from the wolfsbane in his veins. My own hands clasped around Liam's right hand, frowning from the coolness of his skin and lightly squeezed it to reassure him that he'd be okay, despite the obvious fact that he passed out on the way here.

Deaton carefully dragged the knife down Liam's chest, cutting a thin, two inch slice into his skin. The wolfsbane drifted through the small flaps of skin as a yellow smoke, evaporating into the air within seconds. A breathy sigh of relief came from the young beta's lips while his eyes remained shut. I pressed my lips together, relieved that he was no longer in pain.

The tension in my shoulders lessened as the pent up worry I had for him vanished, quickly replacing with the anger and frustration I felt toward the other Alpha in the room. My mind couldn't even process the thought of what would have happened if I hadn't been lucky enough to show up in time. My body hunched over the side of the table, holding Liam's hand in both of mine, finding comfort in knowing he was beside me and no longer in danger.

If Garrett was still alive and not murdered by the Berserkers, I would head straight to wherever he lived and made sure he regretted ever laying a hand on Liam. In fact, Scott was lucky to be standing on the other side of the lab table without my fist colliding into his face, like he deserved. My jaw clenched with irritation.

"That was a close call," Deaton announced as he set the knife back down on the side of the table. His eyes remained on the incision he made on Liam's chest as it slowly began to heal on its own. "A minute longer and I don't think he would have made it."

"When will he wake up?" I questioned, peering up at Deaton on the opposite side of the table.

After tonight, the worry I felt toward the freshman would never disappear after everything both of us had gone through. The two of us went from hating each other to becoming closer than we ever thought we could be. My shirt was still damp with his tears.

Deaton checked the watch on his wrist. "I'd give him thirty minutes to an hour."

"And he'll be okay?" I pressed on, worried.

"Like he was never poisoned in the first place," he answered with a small, reassuring nod.

I nodded my head once, relieved to hear those words. "Good," I spoke, gradually pushing myself up from the bar stool I sat on beside the lab table. "There's a few things I need to do now that he's okay."

Isaac rose a brow from where he positioned, leaning back against the counter on my side of the room. He remained quiet as he watched me begin to walk alongside the table, confusion gracing his features. From the look on his face, I knew he was wondering why I wasn't attacking Scott in a mad rage.

"His parents must be worried since they haven't heard from him since morning. Mason is probably worried sick, and I really just need to--" I suddenly lunged at Scott's figure near the foot of the table, arms swinging. "-- punch this stupid son of a bit--"

Hastily, two arms wrapped around my waist as Stiles yanked me away from his best friend with all of his strength before I could land a single punch. Stiles dragged me backwards, fingers digging into my sides, head craning over his shoulder to make sure he didn't run into the table or my brother.

Scott stared at me in shock, taking a few steps backward. His eyes darted down to the tight hold Stiles had me in, well aware of how easily I could break out of his grasp. He glanced at Isaac nearby, like he knew my brother wouldn't move a muscle to try and stop me if I happened to break free.