Setting Boundaries (The Boundaries Series Book 2)

by Eva Harper

  An older woman made conversation with me as I sat at the counter, eating leftovers from the night before. Her grandson was graduating kindergarten in the coming weeks, and she hoped the threat of wolves would be gone so she could travel to her daughter’s pack.

  “This is him when he was a baby.” She showed me a folded-up picture of a small blonde boy, staring up at a woman I assumed was his mother.

  “He’s beautiful,” I complimented, watching her cheeks grow red.

  “I haven’t seen him or my daughter in months,” she told me, her voice filled with longing. She folded the picture back up and slid it into her pocket.

  “Do you think they’ll be able to come visit you here?”

  She finished gulping her water and shrugged her shoulder. “I’m not sure. My daughter's mate is a Warrior, and now it seems they’re in high demand.” She picked up her glass of water again. “Ooo, I’ve been so thirsty these days, someone must be putting more salt in the food.”

  I giggled lightly. “I guess so.”

  She continued to tittle on about her other child, a son who lived in our pack. He didn’t have any children yet, but she was hoping for another grandchild soon. She stood up from her chair, coughing slightly, tapping her chest with her fist.

  “Are you alright?” I asked, leaning forward to help her.

  She coughed, mouth open, trying to jar something from her throat. She growled slightly as she hacked and coughed. I stood up and looked around the room for assistance. Everyone observed, wondering if they should step in.

  “Marguerite?” a woman asked, walking into the kitchen. Marguerite, the older woman, growled, and her head whipped rapidly to the side.

  Her arms curled inwardly, hands fighting the sharp nails that wanted to protrude. The woman placed her hand on Marguerite’s shoulder; Marguerite quickly pushed the woman off, quite violently. Someone had mind-linked Beckett, who had been standing cautiously a few feet away, just observing.

  Marguerite rolled her head in a circular motion around her neck, eyes rolling to the back of her head, chest protruding outwards as her shoulders spread back. I moved to take a step forward, and Beckett shook his head with one sharp motion. Growls and low menacing sounds filled the small space as Marguerite’s frail body began spasming.

  In the middle of a convulsion, Marguerite shifted into her frazzled charcoal wolf, throwing chairs to the ground in her midst. I backed up against the wall, eyeing the wolf carefully. Her eyes were rapidly shifting colors, from their normal brown color to a bright chartreuse.

  She launched herself towards me, jowl dripping with foam and saliva. Beckett grabbed her around her waist quickly, stopping her conquest to me. She turned her head and cut Beckett’s arm with one of her incisors, a deep laceration that startled Beckett into releasing her.

  When her head turned back to me, I prepared to shift in the minuscule space left near me. A small whistle sounded from the side of the room, and Marguerite’s body slumped to the floor. Casey was near the fridge, a tranquilizer gun in his hands pointed at Marguerite.

  “Told you we have guns,” he commented, his eyes lifting to mine for a second and then situated back on the wolf on the ground.

  Two doctors came to collect Marguerite’s body to bring her to the infirmary for tests. Rush came down from the office to see the damage. The doctors informed us the other pack members in the infirmary exhibited similar symptoms, but they hadn’t been so extreme.

  A few hours later, the Border Guards contacted us with sightings of wolves around the territory. The wolves hadn’t entered our borders; perhaps the sheer amount of pack members we had stationed at the border encouraged them elsewhere. Two Guards had quietly trailed them away from our borders and witnessed the wolves entering the human town.

  The wandering wolves seemed to have no plan, they were unorganized and distracted. We were convinced that there had to be an outside agent that had infected the wolves and thought the humans seemed like the best candidates for such atrocities as the wolves were also attacking human towns.

  The doctors and scientists in our pack were voraciously working to find a cure for the insanity that had infected the wolves. It took them nearly four days to find a minuscule trace of silver in the wolves’ bloodstreams, but without knowing how it was ingested, there was no way to stop the spread.

  Rush sat across from me at our desk that had been converted to include a workspace for me on the other side, chin resting on his fists. We had been staring at each other for twenty-four minutes, blankly. There was a quality about being near your mate that calmed you, even when we felt powerless about protecting our pack.

  Beckett came in and slumped into the couch cushions.

  “Is this what romance looks like nowadays?” he said dryly. We didn’t look away from each other.

  “You don’t know what romance is, Beck,” Rush refuted theatrically. I cracked a smile from my mannequin-like exterior.

  “Four humans were killed in town before the humans shot and killed the wolves.” Beckett’s head fell into his hand sadly.

  “Isn’t it funny that we might be the only thing between humans and certain death even though that’s what we figured would happen anyway?” My voice held no humor, just a dry, sarcastic wit.

  “Just let the wanderers into the human town, saves us from having to do it ourselves.”

  I grunted in disgust at Beckett. “Those wolves are sick, Beckett, it’s just cruel.”

  He shrugged and stood up. “It’s the truth, even if it is cruel,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes and chuckling. “I need something to drink if we’re going to continue this riveting banter.”

  Beckett left, and Rush and I resumed our quiet staring match. My phone began to buzz on the desk, but I ignored it. Rush broke our eye contact and glanced down, looking at my phone. His eyes grew wider, and he reached for the phone.

  “Hazel, that’s Harrison’s daughter, right?” he asked frantically. Her name continued to flash on the screen as I took the device from his hand, instantly accepting her call. I put her on speakerphone and set the phone on the desk.

  “Sloane?” her voice wailed.

  “Yeah, I’m here, Hazel. What’s wrong, what happened?”

  “Sloane, it’s too horrible. I swear I didn’t know anything about it!”

  “Hazel, just take a deep breath and tell us what’s wrong,” Rush soothed, looking up at me worried.

  “That’s your fiancé?” her cheerful voice asked. I shrugged to Rush, I hadn’t told her I was a wolf, let alone that I had a werewolf mate.

  “Yeah, that’s Rush,” I confirmed.

  “Oh my gosh, this is horrible. You both should get out of town now before this gets any worse. The wolves are coming into town, and they’re killing people, Sloane!”

  “We heard,” I said hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, my father won’t let me leave the house. Just, don’t worry, this stuff shouldn’t affect us in any way,” she sighed.

  “What “stuff,” Hazel?”

  “Your neighbors didn’t tell you? I’m sorry I’ve been so concerned with my father and everything, and I know you said you lived out in the woods, or I would have visited sooner. But this is actually good, the scientists that work in another town developed an agent to help subdue the wolves. They’re getting really violent, as you can probably tell, and if we’re going to negotiate with them, this might be the only way to do it.”

  “Hazel, I need you to tell me exactly what you know,” Rush spoke clearly and forcefully.

  “Uh, the only thing I know is that they put something in the water, it’s supposed to suppress their instincts,” she stuttered out.

  “The water?” I clarified, my heart pounding loudly in my ears.

  “Yeah,” she breathed. I ended the call and ran out of the room. Rush was close behind me. I clattered loudly down the stairs; arms spread out to catch me if I fell. My momentum pushed me farther than I wanted, crashing into the doorframe as I ran into
the kitchen, Rush bumping into me.

  Beckett stood near the sink, refilling a second, tall glass of water from the faucet. Rush maneuvered around me and knocked the glass out of Beckett’s hand. Beckett turned angrily, but Rush grabbed onto his biceps, shaking him to get his attention. Beckett growled and pushed Rush away.

  His eyes flashed chartreuse green.

  Forgive Me

  “The Cronus pack has the antidote,” Maeve informed us. “We’re going to retrieve it now. We should be back by this time tomorrow.”

  “And it works?” My voice sounded disbelieving.

  “It doesn’t work past a point.” Her brown eyes cast down. “It prevents those who were infected from reaching the point Marguerite and the others reached, but it can’t bring them back past that point.”

  “You’ll take guards with you?” Rush confirmed.

  Maeve nodded. “We’ll have three guards with us.” She left the office.

  “Will she be back before Beckett…” I covered my mouth, unable to finish the sentence.

  “She will,” he said weakly. “She has to be.”

  “What if she isn’t?”

  Rush looked at my forlorn face and reached over for my hand, tugging me closer to him until his arms wrapped around my waist. His right hand lifted and guided my head to his chest.

  “It’ll be okay,” he promised, his fingers softly moving through my hair.

  “What if it isn’t?”

  “Shh,” he quieted me, kissing the top of my head. “Just focus on the positive, we’re getting the antidote, and we know what’s causing this. That has to be good enough for now.”

  “But Rush-”

  “Will you ever stop talking?” he asked softly, his voice coated in adoration and teasing. I breathed a laugh and ducked my head.

  “No.”

  “Figures.” He smiled.

  “I just...” I leaned back and looked up at him. His face seemed a little more aged lately than it used to. His smile seemed a little more tired, and his eyes crinkled a little more. “I just want us to be okay, all of us.”

  “I’ll be okay as long as you’re here.” His hands rested on my hips.

  “Don’t ever leave me.” I shook my head. “And don’t go crazy either because I wouldn’t be able to handle you all wrapped up in a padded room.”

  He laughed and let go of my waist. “You’d leave me in there without any remorse, huh?”

  “Yeah, your level of crazy is about all I can handle, any more, and I’ve got to hand the duty off to someone else,” I mocked seriousness. Rush stepped back, laughing, and strolled to the window behind our desks. His hands found their way to his back pockets as he looked outside.

  I walked behind him and wove my arms through his and around his stomach, pressing myself greedily against him.

  “He’ll be okay,” I said, trying to make myself believe it.

  “Yeah,” Rush agreed, his enthusiasm diminished. I inhaled deeply, allowing the subtle fragrance of chestnut waft through my lungs. His body tensed, and I pulled my face away from him, looking out onto the scene Rush had been watching unfold.

  Casey and two other Guards circled a frantic Beckett. His body was sweaty, shaking, but not with anger; he was scared.

  I pulled my arms from Rush’s waist as he turned, his hand latched onto mine, and we ascended the stairs together. Rush threw the front door open, not bothering to close it behind us. Beckett was getting closer to the packhouse, stumbling and stammering words that were incoherent.

  “Beckett,” I called cautiously. His eyes wavered, scanning over us and then up to the packhouse. “Beckett talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “Luna, stay back,” one of the Guards ordered. She sidestepped Beckett as he lost his balance and stumbled towards her.

  “Beckett!” Rush’s loud voice cut through, Beckett’s instinct was to listen to his Alpha, but it was like he didn’t even know who we were.

  “Too soon,” Beckett mumbled, his tongue moving slower than necessary.

  “Beckett look at me,” I urged softly, reaching my hand out. He stopped moving. “Beckett, it’s me, Sloane.”

  He lifted his head and gulped. What I had mistaken as sweat on his face were tears, violently moving down his skin.

  “Beckett, you must be so scared, but Maeve is going to get the antidote right now. Everything is going to be okay.”

  He didn’t believe my words, shook his head, and wiped his cheeks. “No,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Beck,” Rush stepped forward, just behind me. “She’ll be back in a matter of hours. You will be fine.”

  Beckett tried not to crumble. I moved closer, Beckett’s body now stationary. The guards and Rush all tensed and raised their hands to stop me, but I nodded firmly to them. Beckett’s head hung low, and he breathed heavier.

  In some unknown part of my mind, I acknowledged his claws elongating and his body pulsing. It wasn’t enough to stop me.

  “Hey,” I called, standing directly in front of me. His eyes closed, and his lips wobbled. “Just come with me, you can go lie down, and we’ll wait for Maeve to get back.”

  “I can’t,” his broken voice erupted. His dark eyes fluttered open, and he stared back into mine, the edges of his iris’ pulsing bright green. “Sloane, please. I can’t.”

  “Beckett,” I pleaded.

  “Please, Sloane, forgive me,” he whispered. His eyes looked up, struggling to keep the tears out of his eyes. As I reached my hand toward him, his hand gripped my forearm and pulled me into his chest. His arm wrapped around my chest, keeping me flush against his body.

  Rush growled loudly, only pausing when he looked down and saw the small knife Beckett had pulled from his back pocket.

  “Beckett,” My voice was high, and it shook against my teeth. “Please don’t do this.”

  He grunted and continued to breathe heavily, unable to catch his breath.

  “Beckett, I swear to God if you don’t put the knife down,” Rush emptily yelled, begging Beckett with his eyes.

  “Everyone, get back,” Beckett said quietly, though everyone heard him and obeyed.

  “Beckett,” my chest quaked as I tried to breathe. “Please.”

  “I can’t stop it, Sloane,” he panted, words choppy and hard.

  “I know your instincts are telling you to attack, I know. But I’m not your enemy, Beckett, I’m trying to help you.”

  “Remember how I told you I would die for this pack?” he stammered, the arm around me flexed. I nodded. “For you and for Rush,” he panted. “I can’t be the reason you die, trying to save me.”

  His arm pushed me away from him roughly, and I fell ungraciously near Rush’s feet. Rush crouched down near me and placed his hand on my hip.

  Beckett’s lips mouthed the words ‘forgive me’ as he lifted the blade to his chest and shoved it into his skin between his ribs. His eyes widened in pain, and he coughed a little. As he slumped over on the ground, the blade fell from his hand.

  Casey rushed forward, bending over Beckett. His hands covered the wound, pressing firmly against it. Beckett’s eyes closed just as Casey tore his shirt off and pressed the fabric onto his chest.

  “Get me a doctor!” Casey yelled, the strangled words barely making it past his lips. “He’s not dead, he missed his heart, get a doctor!”

  The guard’s eyes glazed over as she contacted a doctor. Rush stepped over me and went to his friend’s side, helping Casey to pick him up and carry him in the house. I picked myself off the ground and followed blankly, my mind was far away.

  The doctors arrived within minutes equipped with gauze, bandages, IV, and medicine. They transported him in a van to the medical building about ten minutes away.

  Rush grabbed my hand and pulled me into his car, speeding after the ambulance. His hands shook around the steering wheel, white-knuckled, eyes never blinking.

  “Rush,” I whispered. He didn’t move, he didn’t hear me. “Rush, are you okay?”

 
“No,” he said brokenly, his eyes and lips swelled a little, but no tears fell from his eyes.

  “What can I do?”

  “Just don’t leave.” His right hand let go of the steering wheel and blindly searched for mine, grasping at air until I wrapped both of my smaller hands around it. I rubbed small circles on the back of his hand as he drove.

  The doctors rushed Beckett into surgery, and after three long hours of waiting in the lobby, the surgeon came out.

  “He’s going to be okay,” the doctor said, sliding the scrub cap off his head.

  “Where is he?” I asked quickly. Rush placed his hand over mine to calm me, although he probably needed it more than I did.

  “He’s in the ICU, we need to monitor him. He did some damage to his chest muscles and ribs with the blade, and he also nicked the muscle around his heart. We have repaired everything, but the anesthesia we gave him coupled with the poison from the water put him in a coma.”

  Rush stood up, his chest shaking with a growl that wanted to come out.

  “His brain activity and reflexes are stable. We will monitor him closely; hopefully, we can use the antidote to create a reaction to wake him up. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t know how far the poison has progressed into the ‘rogue’ phase.”

  “Rogue?” I cackled bitterly. “Is that what they’re calling it?”

  The doctor nodded and fiddled with the scrub cap in his hand.

  “Can we see him?” Rush asked softly, his fingers unconsciously tightening around my hand.

  “Of course, Alpha. Please try to keep your visit short, he needs to rest.”

  The doctor showed us where Beckett’s bed was in the ICU and left us shortly after. Rush stayed by the door, leaning on the wall. He was trying not to show emotion, although Beckett was sleeping, and I was the only other one in the room. I let go of his hand and sat in the chair at Beckett’s bedside.

  I took his left hand gently in my own, trying to bring him comfort even though I didn’t know if he could feel it.

  “We’re here, Beck,” I said softly, glancing at Rush. “You’re going to be okay; we’re going to figure this out. You were so brave.”