Leah's POV
Cole's skin glistened with sweat, stretched tight over festering wounds that wept pus and blood, refusing to knit. His limbs jerked in jagged spasms, a puppet with cut strings, and a guttural moan clawed its way out of his throat, raw and pitiful.
"What did you do to him?" I asked, whirling on Leo, who stood a few feet away, his face a mask of cool detachment, clipboard clutched like a shield.
He didn't flinch, just met my glare with those steady, unfeeling eyes. "I didn't do anything to him," he said, voice flat as the blade of a knife. "Finn hired some half-wit hacks to pick apart my enhancement tech. Tried to juice up werewolves on the sly, but they fucked it up. Now you've got these fucked up hybrids - half werewolf, half monster. They heel to Finn's every word, fight until they drop, but their bodies burn out fast. Can't heal worth a damn either."
My mouth went dry, the words sinking into me like teeth. I stared at Cole, at the way his chest heaved, each breath a battle he was losing. "You mean they just… keep fighting until they die?" I whispered, the question slipping out before I could stop it, fragile as cracked glass.
Leo gave a curt nod, his lips thinning. "They shouldn't have done anything without my oversight." He turned away, reaching for a syringe, the needle glinting under the light. "I'm stabilizing him with this for now - sedative. Best I can do."
I watched, rooted to the spot, as he plunged the needle into Cole's arm. The convulsing slowed, then stopped, his body going slack as the drug dragged him under. His face softened in sleep, and for a moment, I saw Lucas there - pale and still on that damn sickbed years ago, the memory slicing through me like a fresh wound.
Leo peeled off his gloves with a sharp snap, tossing them aside. "You know him?"
I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. "Barely. Worked for Mick back in the day. After Mick bit it, he trailed Finn like a stray."
He shrugged, indifferent. "If he's got loose ends, better tie them up quick. Sedatives will keep him quiet, but they're a slow poison - hook him too long, and his body's done. I'll give him four to five days before he totally crashed. By that time, no sedatives can switch him off. We have to put him out."
Four to five days. That's what he said, casual as if he were guessing the weather.
Four to five days, give or take, like Cole was a carton of milk about to sour.
My stomach churned, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I fished my phone from my pocket, fingers trembling just enough to piss me off, and punched in Rory's number. It rang once before he picked up, his voice crackling through, thick with something - shock, maybe, or hope.
"You… you really… I…"
"Rory, shut it," I cut in, sharp and cold. "Don't talk. Listen. Your brother's dying. Get your ass to Florida. Now."
Silence stretched, heavy and taut, before he mumbled, "I don't think I'm the one he'd want hovering over him when he goes."
I bit back a snarl, my grip tightening on the phone. "You think I'd risk this call for shits and giggles? You're all he's got left, you dumb bastard. Move your ass. Now."
"Okay, but—" His voice wavered. "My wife just had a cub. I can't leave her..."
"Then drag them along," I snapped. "Helicopter's already on its way. Be ready." I ended the call before he could argue, the click loud in the stale air.
I turned back to Cole, his chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm. Too much like Lucas, too damn much. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood, and wondered if a heartless bastard like him still feel the pain?
Gean's projection flickered into view beside me, his translucent form casting no shadow. "You look beat, boss," he said, his tone soft but edged with concern. "Take a breather. I'll stick with Leo."
Leo didn't look up from his notes. "Yeah, get out. You're pale as a corpse - no color a pregnant woman oughta have. Plus, you're clogging up my space, fucking with my work."
I waved them off, too drained to bite back. "Fine," I muttered, and trudged up the stairs, the basement's chill clinging to my skin like damp rot.
The house was a cavern of silence when I stepped inside, the kind that presses in until you can hear your own pulse. I sank onto the couch, staring at Sharbo gliding through his tank, her big, vacant eyes locked on me like she was judging my every breath.
"What, you wanna accuse me as well?" I rasped. She flicked her tail and darted off, leaving me with nothing but the hum of the filter and my own jagged thoughts.
I couldn't sit there, stewing in it. The walls were closing in, and I needed air - needed something to drown out the noise in my head. I snatched my keys and headed for the car, the engine's rumble a small comfort as I peeled out toward Pier 16.
The dock hit me with salt and sweat, the ocean's breath tangling with the stink of fish and fuel. I spotted Liam before I could brace myself - shirtless, jeans slung low, unloading crates like he was born to it. He'd filled out since I last saw him, muscle coiling under sun-browned skin, moving with that easy, predatory grace that screamed Lucas louder than I could stand. My throat tightened, a dull ache blooming behind my ribs.
Black-suited bodyguards flanked him, a wall of stiff formality that clashed with the sweat dripping down his back. He finished with the cargo, grabbed a water bottle from one of them, and took a long pull before upending the rest over his head. The water sluiced through his hair, down his chest, and a guard shoved a towel at him quick, like he'd burn without it. Another suit - some secretary type - scurried up with papers, and Liam flipped through them, brow creasing as he barked short, clipped words.
And then, as if he heard the beating sound of my heart, he lifted his eyes and looked at my direction.