Page 121 of The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate
“Give me a minute, Alpha.”
The healer’s hands move along her ribs, her shoulder, her temple. His mouth tightens.
“Bruising. Dislocation, possible tear. Concussion. The temple wound bled a lot, but it isn’t deep. She’ll wake up. She’ll be hurting.” His eyes flick up to us. “An hour. Maybe more.”
Lucas’s jaw moves once. He turns to me. His hand finds the back of my neck briefly, firmly. “I’m joining the search. Stay with her. The moment she’s lucid, find out what she saw. Every detail. Don’t let her drift back to sleep before you have it.”
“Alright.”
“Darius is coming with me.”
I nod. My hand lifts and curls around the side of his neck. “Lucas, be careful.”
His thumb traces my hairline. “Stay in this room.”
Then, he and Darius are gone. The corridor echoes their footfalls down the staircase—fast, hard, two men running.
Violet drops onto the bed at Lydia’s good side. Her hand wraps around Lydia’s fingers. She doesn’t speak, but her shoulders are trembling.
“Violet…”
She shakes her head without looking at me. “I should be out there.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“My mother is in those trees, Sienna, and I am sitting in a bedroom, holding a woman’s hand.”
“You’re sitting in a bedroom holding the hand of the only person who may have seen where she went.” I sit down beside her and rub my hand slowly up and down her back. “Lydia is the only set of eyes we have on what just happened. Our mates are looking for tracks, but we are looking for everything else. We are not useless here. We are necessary.”
Her breathing is shallow. “Necessary.”
“Yes.”
“This doesn’t feel necessary.”
“I know it doesn’t. But it is.”
She drops her forehead to my shoulder, and I let it stay there. The healer’s hands keep moving in their slow, green sweep across Lydia’s body. The clock on the mantel ticks. I do not let myself look at it. Outside the window, the bell on the east wall has stopped at last, replaced by the distant call of one wolf, then two, then a chorus of them.
We sit in tense silence while the healer works. An hour passes before the man stops and stretches his back. He packs his satcheland says, “She’ll surface soon. Keep her propped up. Water if she’ll take it.”
“Thank you.”
Once he leaves, Violet’s head drops to my shoulder again. I press my cheek against her hair. The clock on the mantel keeps ticking. The chorus outside has thinned. Two wolves now. One.
After an eternity, the sound of boots on the stairs.
My head comes up.
More than one set. Two, maybe three. The pace has me worried. They are walking, not running. My stomach turns.
Lucas appears in the doorway, mud up to his knees. Darius behind him. Both are dressed again, but their clothes are dirty and torn. Their faces carry a message I do not want to read.
Violet jumps to her feet. “Mom?”
“Not yet.” Darius goes to her, catches her by the shoulders, holds her steady. “We tracked her to the service road. There were tire marks. Two heavy vehicles. They had transport waiting, Violet. They knew their way out.”
A small sound leaves her. She presses her palm against his chest.
