Page 62 of Fight or Fly

“I think I can safely say that none of us expected this,” Kam said.

“With the possible exception of Beckett,” I couldn’t help adding. While I could certainly understand the need for secrecy, Flynn’s boss still had some serious explaining to do.

“If Beckett’s in an off-cycle heat, it’ll be a few days till we get any answers worth a damn,” Flynn said. “Can’t say I’m real happy about that situation, given that I still don’t trust Nikolayev as far as I could throw him. And I don’t think I could throw him very far at the moment.”

I closed my eyes, remembering the way Beckett had fallen into his mate’s embrace in abject relief. “You didn’t see them together. Honestly? I think that part of it’s just fine.”

Flynn let out a wordless grunt, neither agreement nor disagreement.

* * *

Alex was in surgeryfor several hours, which was worrying. When she was finally wheeled out, still unconscious, Jax bullied the staff into placing her in a cot next to Flynn’s. He also ignored his own medical orders by getting out of bed to sit with her—but at least that inspired the orderlies to locate a few chairs for us.

Kam offered to take hand-holding duty so Jax could rest, but Jax refused.

“Only because I don’t want to risk you ending up with a busted hand, too,” he said. “Once I’m sure she’s not going to try and murder the nearest person when she wakes up, she’s all yours.”

Flynn was dozing, his body recovering from the abuse it had taken. The doctors had x-rayed his jawbone earlier, and they at least seemed to think he wouldn’t lose the teeth. He was slated for a procedure in the morning to stabilize them, so the stretched ligaments anchoring them to his jaw could have a chance to heal.

In addition to her broken left hand, Alex had been flogged. The slow burn of rage that had kindled in my stomach as the doctor described the damage to her back still hadn’t subsided. Flynn had apparently sensed my very un-omegalike fury, because he’d said, “For what it’s worth, she shot the guy in the head afterward.Boom—exploding skull fragments, brain splatter, the whole nine yards.”

That did, in fact, make me feel better... which was objectively a bit worrying. I was supposed to be a diplomat, and diplomats weren’t supposed to fantasize about people being killed in horrible ways.

We waited, watching over Flynn and Alex as they slept. I had Flynn’s large hand clasped in mine, simply because I couldn’t bear not to have physical contact with him after the terrible days of uncertainty.

By unspoken mutual agreement, we didn’t discuss any of the recent cataclysmic revelations—or the resulting unimaginable consequences for the underground. Silence reigned in the echoing infirmary, broken only by the occasional snore or cough from one of the injured soldiers sharing the space with us. The lights had been lowered to make resting easier, but there was still enough illumination to allow the nurses to see what they were doing when they came through at regular intervals to check on their patients.

The clock on the wall read two forty-five a.m. when Alex gave a low whine of distress, moving restlessly in her sleep. She’d been placed on her right side to keep the pressure off her injured back, with her left hand in its complicated frame of splints and wires strapped to her chest in a tight sling.

Flynn woke instantly, wincing as he rolled into a sitting position on the edge of the cot. We all turned toward her, watching closely.

“Alef?” Jax asked quietly. “It’s all right. We’re all safe. Beckett, too. Can you open your eyes for us?”

It was so typical of this pack. Alex wouldn’t care whether or notshewas safe unless her packmates were as well—and Jax knew that. Her back was to me, but I heard her sharply indrawn breath; saw her shoulders tense as she became more aware of her surroundings. Kam, who’d been seated at the foot of her cot, rose and came to stand behind Jax’s shoulder.

“Hello, alpha,” he said. “Jax tried to mate me while you and Flynn were gone. Please don’t break his fingers, though. There’s enough of that going around as it is.”

That seemed to do the trick, as far as snapping her out of her instinctual panic. Her head shot up.

“Jax didwhat?” she demanded, her voice a bare rasp.

I gave Flynn’s hand a final squeeze and grabbed the cup of water sitting on the tray table between the cots, going to join the others.

Jax shot Kam a confounded look. “Not exactly the most pressing issue, I’d’ve thought.”

“It was a misunderstanding, anyway,” Kam said magnanimously. “No harm done.” He took the cup from me. “Here. Mind your hand, though. And your back. And anything else that hurts, for that matter.”

Alex gave both him and Jax wary looks as she let Kam slip the straw between her lips. She drank a few sips and pulled back, craning down to look at the hardware strapped around her damaged hand.

“How do you feel?” Jax asked.

Alex’s green gaze turned inward for a moment. “Like shit,” she replied succinctly. “Flynn?”

“Right here,” Flynn said. “Nice one earlier, with the ‘playing possum’ thing. Gonna have to remember that for next time.”

Alex craned around, reassuring herself that Flynn really was all right. “Beckett?” she asked.

“He’s being looked after,” I said.

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