Page 104 of Feral Fates
“Ryker?” she whispers, the word breaking on a sob.
“Still here,” I manage, though each syllable feels like dragging sound through broken glass. “Thanks to you.”
She doesn’t speak. Can’t. Her throat works around the words, but nothing comes out, just more tears, falling faster now. Her hands tremble as they reach for mine, clutching me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
The sight of her like this—so fierce and brave for everyone else, now undone by relief—it shatters me.
This is what pulls me back fully. Not the prophecy. Not the victory.
Her.
“Don’t cry,” I rasp, thumb weakly brushing away a tear that’s already been replaced. “You’ll make me start.”
That earns a watery laugh, broken and beautiful, and gods, it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“You’ve been unconscious for days. The healers weren’t certain...” She stops, unable or unwilling to voice the possibility that had clearly haunted her. “But I knew you’d come back.”
I try to sit up, immediately recognizing my mistake as pain flares. Kitara’s hand presses gently but firmly against my chest, preventing further attempts.
“Don’t,” she warns, concern evident in her voice. “You sustained catastrophic injuries. Silver poisoning. Internal damage that’s still healing. The fact you’re conscious at all is miracle enough for now.”
Memory returns in fragments—the plateau, Thaddeus’s challenge, the brutal combat that followed. “I killed him.”
“Yes,” she confirms, understanding without elaboration which “him” I reference. “The prophecy is fulfilled. Thaddeus is dead.”
The confirmation should bring satisfaction, perhaps even triumph. Instead, I feel only tired. “You guided me.”
She flushes. “The pack helped. You were right. My visions weren’t gone, just dimmed by the silver.”
I nod, wincing when the movement causes the world to tilt. “And after?”
“Chaos, as he predicted,” Kitara admits. “The power structure collapsed as news spread. Some allied alphas declared independence. Others fight for Thaddeus’s position, believing they should assume the mantle of Grand Alpha.”
I absorb this information, finding it unsurprising if somewhat disappointing. “And our pack?”
Here her expression softens, pride evident beneath continuing concern. “Standing strong. Our allies from Ghost River and Mountain Strider Packs maintained protection while you recovered. Our borders are secure. Our people safe.”
“Lithia?”
Her face drops. “Still missing. But we continue to search.”
“And you?” I ask, studying her with growing concern as my initial disorientation fades. I sense not just her exhaustion but her near-depletion, as if she’s expended everything while I hovered between life and death.
“I’m fine,” she answers automatically, the claim so obviously false it would be laughable under different circumstances.
“Liar.” I manage to raise my hand despite protesting muscles, cupping her cheek with a gentle touch that belies my harsh assessment. “You’ve been keeping me alive. Pushing yourself beyond safe limits.”
She doesn’t deny the accusation, her expression revealing both determination and vulnerability that makes my chest ache in ways unrelated to physical injury. “I couldn’t lose you.”
“You haven’t,” I assure her, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “You won’t.”
The moment stretches between us, fragile and profound.
A commotion outside the healing chamber interrupts our connection—voices raised in what sounds like argument rather than threat, familiar tones suggesting pack disagreement rather than external danger.
“What now?” I ask, frustration evident despite physical weakness.
Kitara sighs, reluctance clear in her expression. “Alphas from twelve packs have gathered outside our territory. They’re demanding council. They want to decide what happens now that Thaddeus no longer rules.”
