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Chapter 49 - My Worst Nightmare

Chapter 49 - My Worst Nightmare 

Hours later, I wake up.

The room is dark, and my head feels okay enough that I start to feel my usual panic. I'm about to get up and turn on a light when in the silence, I hear a doorknob turn slowly, carefully.

Is it Mateus? Dylan? My spine goes rigid after I discreetly take in a breath of air. No, it's not, not tonight.

My hand goes under my pillow, sliding a knife out of the holder. The intruder is practically silent, but I'm alert, and I can hear the gentle steps as he crosses the distance between the door and my bed.

I try to keep my eyes closed and my breathing even, like it would be if I were still sleeping, but I'm panicking inside. This is my worst nightmare come to life.

When I feel them approach the bed, I make my move, springing up and throwing the knife in their direction immediately.

I hear a cry of pain. Not wanting to fight in the dark, I quickly turn on the lamp, but I pause in shock when I recognize the face of the man pulling a knife out of his shoulder. He drops it, and it clatters to the ground.

"Donovan," I breathe.

He has his own knife, and he lunges for me with it. I dodge him, but he's skilled, more skilled than he looks. He immediately attacks again, trying to shove the knife into my chest, and it grazes my arm as I move to the side.

He's too fast, or I'm still too slow after loosing all that blood earlier, and after a few of his attacks without any sign of an opening to be able to disarm him, I twist around him to grab my own weapons. I swiftly throw the holster over one shoulder and across my body and tighten it as I swerve around Donovan once more, putting more space between us.

Across the room from him now, I throw my second knife at his chest. He tries to sidestep it, but it's too fast. It sinks into the arm he used to block himself. Immediately, I throw two more, one with each hand in succession. One makes the target finally, landing right in his heart.

He falls to the ground, blood gurgling up out of his mouth.

"Who sent you? Tell me," I demand, hovering over him.

He stops moving, so I don't get my answer. But I didn't need it. This has Cain written all over it. 

I stand, looking at the body. Then, the unsettling realization hits:  he was one of a pair. There's still Weston.

I immediately break all my walls down, reaching for my connection with Dylan.

Dylan! Dylan! Are you ok?

He can hear my panic. What? What's wrong?

The sound of glass breaking echoes from down the hall.

Oh my god. Cold, hard dread fills my stomach like a sack of lead. Mateus.

Another knife at the ready, I run into Mateus's room to find Weston and Mateus fighting. Weston is closest to me, so I immediately take aim, knowing Mateus won't get in the way of the path.

The knife flies through the air, sinking into the middle of Weston's back.

Mateus steps out of the way as the body falls forward. His blue eyes are ablaze with rage, but his face is stone cold. When he registers it's me, the expression immediately softens.

"Are you okay?" I ask him immediately, worried, as I watch a blood stain grow around a rip in his shirt's side.

He lifts up the material, assessing the wound. "It's only a little deep. It'll heal by tomorrow."

The panic of the fight leaves, and then my brain goes into repair mode. My voice switches to a new tone, one more calm and collected. "They're silver knives, or Donovan's was at least. That's got to go through the natural healing process, and it's going to scar. I'll wake Dr. Maria to have her stitch you up."

I go into his bathroom to grab a towel. He may not care about the blood he's losing, but I do.

I feel for my connection with Maria and grab for it, pulling her consciousness closer to the surface. Maria, I need you in the medical cabin now.

"Donovan?" he asks.

"He tried to attack me," I respond tersely, pressing the towel to his side. Adrenaline is still racing through me, so I haven't had an emotional reaction to the betrayal yet. "Apply pressure, please."

"What?" he grabs my arm, noticing the blood around my own cut. He pulls it and the towel I'm holding away from his side. "He hurt you."

He drops my arm and starts marching out of the room.

I block his path and place the towel back into position. "Mateus, stop it. He's dead. I'm fine; my cut is actually nothing, but you're bleeding, like really bleeding."

He grabs my arm again to look at my cut, and I tug it out of his grasp.

"Stop it!" I raise my voice, irritated, my emotions once again getting the better of me when I'm around him.  "Come on, we're going to the medical cabin right now."

"You've already lost a lot of blood today."

"Yeah, and I'm going to lose more if you and your stubborn ass don't start walking with me to the medical cabin. Now. Let's go!"

In our short walk from one building to the next, Dylan and a few other wolves run out from the tree line.

I point at the medical cabin and motion for Mateus to resume. "You, inside."

Surprisingly, he continues to the cabin.

"You didn't bring everyone with you, did you? You left people patrolling still?" I ask Dylan.

He looks at the ground.

"You all," I say, looking at the others, "I need an immediate perimeter sweep done now."

I mind link Dylan a very brief version of events before adding, I need to go see if Mateus is behaving and get a bandage myself. Can you go back to leading patrols? I'll call you back here in an hour or so and we can go through the details.

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