Page 3 of Return to the Pack

Before Callan even has the truck parked, Warrick and Ethan leap out of the truck bed.

Warrick opens the passenger door and extends his hand to me. I take it and slide my rump from the seat.

He wraps his arms around me for a brief but tender embrace. His skin feels chilled to the bone, and he’s a sopping mess, but the hug is more welcome than he’ll ever know.

When he releases me, I step to the side so he can retrieve Axel.

“Callan, support his head and shoulders and scoot him toward me,” he orders. “I don’t want to just yank him out.”

“Good call,” Callan says. “We don’t know the extent of his injuries. Be as gentle as you can but move as quick as you can, too. There’s a golden hour to meet for medical trauma, and we’re well past that. His life hangs in the fates’ hands.”

They move as swiftly as they can with their precious cargo, and before long, Axel is in Warrick’s arms.

Warrick hurries through the rain to the house, where Ethan stands holding the screen door.

“Put him in my room,” Callan says, glancing at me.

When I lived there, he gave me his room. Now, he’s giving it to Axel, our Alpha.

I stay beside Warrick, who steps over the empty beer cans and fast food wrappers cluttering the floor. Looks like since I moved to town, the boys are back to their old swamp dog ways. Warrick lays Axel on the unmade, messy bed like he’s a porcelain doll who might shatter.

Right now, nothing matters except his well-being. I huddle next to Axel, clueless as to what to do next. Callan hustles into the room with his medical bag. He snaps his fingers and points at Ethan. “Get rubbing alcohol and bottled water, stat.”

“On it,” Ethan says, hustling out of the room.

“Can you get a blanket, Luna? This boy’s skin is near ice.”

“You got it,” I say, grabbing the blankets from the floor next to the bed.

Callan retrieves a set of weirdly curved scissors and starts cutting Axel’s pant leg from the ankle.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“We strip ‘em, then we flip ‘em. We don’t got time to gently peel Axel out of his clothes. We already lost way too much time getting here.” He makes the last snip at the waistband. “You peel the clothes away as gently as you can while I keep snipping.”

I nod, thankful for more to do than watch. I pry back Axel’s jeans to see a swollen bulge, mid-thigh, along with extensive bruising.

“Shit,” Callan says, glancing at Axel’s leg.

“What?” I say, alarm cinching down on my heart.

“Looks like a nasty break. Okay, done with this side. Keep going.” He moves alongside Axel’s body until he can get to his sopping shirt.

Ethan returns with the supplies Callan requested and lays them on the bed.

I gently tug the wet clothes away from Axel’s skin. His other ankle bears a similar swelling as his opposite leg. More bruises mar every square inch of his legs.

Callan kneels beside Axel and palpates his body.

Ethan uncaps bottles and hands them to Callan as requested. Warrick tears from the room to gather ordered supplies from Callan’s sharp instructions.

Callan tucks the blanket around Axel’s torso as he gets to work splinting his leg and ankles.

The room blurs all around me as whispers fill my head.

Luna…

I frown, glancing around to see where the whispers are coming from.