Page 69 of Prey for Me

LEO

IhavetoliftNakoainto my arms like I usually do our omega, and how thin he is hits me with a wall of dread. Weak, injured, and potentially poisoned. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened to our pack outside of Grace being killed or wounded. Nakoa is our rock, our guiding star. We can’t lose our pack leader. But I can feel him slipping away in my arms.

Wounded. Poisoned. Merciful.

Those three words rattle around my head as Raphael grabs Grace’s hand and dashes into the forest with me not far behind. She refuses to be carried, carrying her weight as she puts it, by bringing as many supplies as she can carry. Our ship is gone, and we were only able to save two packs of food and weapons. But it’s better than the alternative, so I’m thankful.

Hot and flustered. Yeah?

I try to joke, but his smile is weak.

Wounded. Poisoned. Be merciful.

Memories I had mistaken as visions float to the surface of my mind. I can feel and taste a cloth in my mouth pressing down.The day my father decided it would be better for our pack to be dead than leave the island. I shudder all over, reliving that day over and over again. When Raphael is out of earshot and Grace closes her eyes long enough to rest, I draw Nakoa closer to me.

One decade. Ten years. Ten and eighteen. I’ve known him for half of my life. I often feel like a fraud, but then I remind myself that I was worthy enough to be a part of Nakoa’s pack, the strongest man I know, and feel reassured. But now, I feel untethered, and I don’t have anyone or anything to bring me back to earth.

Nakoa’s dry lips part, and he murmurs something too faint for me to hear. I press my ear against his lips and listen intently. When I fully process his words, I nearly drop him from the shock.

“Kill… me….”

My heart beat screeches to a halt, unable to accept what he said.

“Show mercy. Keep our baby safe. Kill me, please,” he says more forcefully after wetting his lips a few more times.

“It’s not that bad,” I insist, because I won’t do it, and because it’s not. Not yet anyway. “Stop talking like that and focus on recovering.

It hurts more than breaking an arm from a failed cliff climb, or a knife to the back. I’m sure that’s what that poisoned bullet feels like. But Nakoa has survived both. He’s come back stronger. Healed all wrong and broken, but healed nonetheless. He will survive this.

“We can use the plants as medicine after we extract the bullet,” I say, not believing my lies. We don’t have the tools or the knowledge to do either. I can set a bone, wrap a cut, and cleanse a wound. I can’t yank out a bullet or cure whatever is coursing through his veins.

“On the part of Providence, we recognize. Look around you, Leo. Doesn’t it all look so strange?” Nakoa says weakly.

I don’t respond for a while, because he’s right. Bullets? Big trucks armed with machine guns? Electrified fences? Nothing about the South is what it should be, like the Stone Age up North. And worst of all, I’m starting to question everything I’ve ever assumed about this place. What mysteries haven’t we untangled in ten fucking years!? Raphael used to joke that we’re lab rats in one long experiment. Maybe he was closer to the truth than he could ever imagine.

“Don’t give up. As soon as you get back up, you can fight. It doesn’t matter what you look like after, as long as you get up. Isn’t that what you always told me,” I beg.

“We’ll protect you,” I promise, though it’s probably empty since we failed already.

“And Grace?” he asks.

“What about her?” I shoot back, tone too sharp and bitter, like a dog lashing out before an attack.

“They were targeting her. Like they knew she was there. Who shoots at a pregnant omega?” he asks.

“You’re delirious,” and out of every word I’ve said, I believe this with absolute certainty.

“And you weren’t there,” he whispers as I wipe his sweaty forehead with the bottom of my shirt.

His meaning feels deeper, and my rage boils over. I welcome it if only to stave off despair.

“I would have, but we were trying to save the boat,” I grit out.

“I’m not accusing you. I’m saying I wasn’t delirious when I blocked a bullet intended for Grace’s head,” Nakoa tries to shout back, but his voice is faint.

“We’ll find them. We’ll make them pay. Together.

“I knew I’d have to pay the price for beating death back then,” Nakoa says, a feverish haze overtaking his features.

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