**Paige’s POV **
The minutes drag until Poppy finally says, “Okay, that’s enough.” She clamps the line and removes the needle from Callen’s arm, pressing gauze to the wound. “We’ll let his system settle. Jake, keep him on the fluids.”
Callen stands and immediately sways, catching himself on the edge of the bed. Parker’s there instantly, steadying him.
“Sit,” I tell him, moving to help. My voice shakes, but it’s enough to make him listen. He sinks back into a chair beside Ryder’s bed, his head in his hands, and I run my hand through his hair.
“His blood’s still fighting the toxin,” Poppy says after checking the monitors. “But it’s slower now, which is good. The transfusion’s buying us time.”
“How much time?” Parker asks.
Poppy meets his eyes. “Enough to pray it’s enough.”
Parker looks between me, Ryder and Callen before holding out his arm. “Give him some of mine,” he demands.
“It could do more harm than good,” Jake says quietly. “He needs Alpha blood, Beta blood might only weaken him further.”
“Isn’t any blood better than none?” He asks.
“Yes, but right now he has enough Alpha blood to help him fight.” Jake explains. “If he needs more before Callen recovers, then we will consider it.”
Parker nods, but I can see his frustration at not being able to help, and I understand it because I feel just as useless. I hold out a hand to him, and he takes it, stepping closer, the three of us huddled together beside Rye, watching and waiting.
The silence that follows is unbearable. The cabin feels too small, too full of fear and tension and the faint beep of monitors. I reach for Ryder’s hand again, brushing my thumb over his knuckles.
He’s still so pale. But when I focus, I swear I can feel him somewhere deep inside the bond, a faint pulse of warmth, of stubbornness. Like he’s fighting.
“I think he’s holding on,” I whisper. “I can feel it.”
Poppy looks at me, her expression softening. “Then keep talking to him. He’ll need every reason to fight.”
So I do. I talk about Jaxon, about the pack, about how he still owes me a proper date that doesn’t involve blood or danger or yelling. I tell him about how I thought Callen was him the first time I saw him, and how I was trying to find a way to ask him if he had a twin brother without being direct in case he didn’t know, which seems so silly now. Anything to keep him hearing the sound of my voice.
I sit at Ryder’s side, tracing faint circles over the back of his hand. His skin feels slightly warmer now, but his breathing is still uneven, and too slow for my liking. Poppy keeps glancing at the readings, and every few minutes she adjusts something, muttering under her breath.
Callen hasn’t left the chair. He’s still pale and sweating from the blood loss, but he refuses to lie down no matter how many times we try to make him. There’s a strong streak of stubbornness in both brothers, and it’s one of the many things that terrifies me about loving them.
The door bursts open so hard it bangs against the wall, and I jump.
“Where is he?”
Ronnie’s voice booms through the room, thick with panic. His eyes sweep over us until they land on the bed, and all the colour drains from his face. “Oh, Goddess.”
He’s across the room in seconds, pushing past Parker and Jake to stand beside Ryder’s bed. For a moment, he just stares at him with glassy eyes. “What the hell happened?”
“He found some of the hunter’s paraphernalia,” Callen answers hoarsely. “Some new kind of poison that’s messing with his healing.”
Ronnie’s hands tremble as he brushes Ryder’s hair back from his forehead. The movement is gentle and fatherly. “He looks half–gone.”
“He was,” Poppy says quietly. “Still might be if we can’t flush the rest of it.”
Ronnie turns to look at her, at Callen, and then finally at me. His eyes are wild, desperate. You’re just sitting here waiting for him to die?”
Parker steps forward, his tone low and warning. “Careful.”
Ronnie shakes his head, ignoring him. “No, you don’t get it. Paige, you…” He stops, swallowing hard, and I can see the war inside him. “Have you even tried to heal him?”
Every head turns toward me.
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