The Lonely Wolf

by Monica La Porta

  “Of course.” Ludwig exited the room and went straight to the ICU nurses’ station, where he asked for a word with the doctor treating the girl.

  “Doctor Dani is talking to the family,” one of the nurses said, her tone subdued as her eyes darted to the side.

  “Is the girl—worse?” Ludwig heard a woman’s wail and he turned on his heel to face the other end of the hallway.

  A group of three tall men wearing dark suits and two women clad in black from head to toe stood huddled together. The doctor, the only white splash in a sea of darkness, had a hard time containing the crying woman while he tried to answer a barrage of questions from the men. The second woman was unnaturally still and was staring at Ludwig, her onyx eyes—the only physical detail visible through the opening in her veil—seething with anger.

  The woman pointed a finger at him, and the men spun at once. The tallest separated from the group and walked toward Ludwig.

  “You,” the man said when mere centimeters from Ludwig. “Release the dog to us.” His whole body exuded anger, and his panther was shimmering in and out of sight.

  Inwardly, Ludwig groaned. “Alpha.” He opened his arm to the side. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

  “We have nothing to discuss. Give us the rapist.” The man’s raised voice attracted everyone’s attention.

  As the Purist stepped even closer to Ludwig, his stance menacing and his panther roaring, several nurses stopped mid-step in the middle of the hallway, then veered toward Ludwig.

  “Archangel?” one of the nurses asked.

  Ludwig smiled at the woman. “Everything’s fine.”

  The nurses hesitated, but at the sight of the doctor nodding, they walked away.

  Ludwig gave the doctor a nod of his own, then addressed the Purist. “We won’t be having this conversation here,” he said, keeping his voice level. Rising to his full height and towering over the alpha, who even if big wasn’t as massive as Ludwig, he marched toward the exit door. A moment later, he was rewarded by angry steps following him.

  “Over here.” Ludwig held the door for the Purist, then led him out of the ICU, through a long corridor, and into one of the smaller waiting rooms outside of the ER.

  A few visitors were milling around, but as Ludwig strode through they dispersed. A couple who had been talking in hushed tones fled the waiting room as Ludwig entered. The Purist gave him an angry stare and stopped in the middle of the room, standing with his chest rising and falling, his nostrils flaring.

  By contrast, Ludwig relaxed his stance and walked to the couch, then eased himself onto the backrest, crossing his ankles. “I won’t release Lupo Solis to you.”

  The panther roared so loud, the windows rattled. “That dog raped my Jasmine, and she’s dying because of him.”

  “I understand your pain, and I’m sorry for your daughter, but Lupo mated with her.”

  “Don’t you dare—” Foam at his mouth, the man could barely talk.

  “They are soulmates.”

  The Purist lost the small control he had on his panther, and the animal came out. The shifting was fast, expensive shards of suit exploding all around as the panther lunged at Ludwig’s throat. Any other man would have been dead the moment the sharp fangs connected with the jugular, but Ludwig was an angel and felt only a tickle. In truth, he could have stopped the panther before he reached for him, but he let the animal spend some energy.

  Standing and grabbing the panther by the ridge on his back, he moved the animal with no more effort than he would have applied to dislodge a kitten. He could have thrown the panther against the wall, but the man and his animal were acting out of grief, and he deposited the fighting beast to the floor.

  Ludwig pointed at the tiles. “Stay.” His voice carried the tiniest hint of Wrath, nothing more than a reminder of his power, but enough to still the predator.

  The animal didn’t cower, but he didn’t attack a second time either.

  “Shift back.” Ludwig witnessed the swift change, then sat on the couch, waiting for the naked man to recompose himself. “Ready to have a civilized conversation?”

  The man didn’t answer, but imperceptibly lowered his head.

  “The Immortal Council won’t give you permission to assassinate an innocent.” At the low growl from the Purist, Ludwig raised his chin to remind the man to behave.

  “My tribe has the right to avenge my daughter.” Tall and elegant, the Purist maintained his dignity even without wearing a stitch of clothing. “I have the right to kill the one who violated Jasmine.”

  Ludwig felt the raw ache pouring out from the man in waves, but he also experienced an odd sense of proprietary protectiveness regarding Lupo. “There’s no point in arguing over Solis’s jurisdiction.”

  “He must pay,” the man spat.

  “He will pay for the crimes he committed.” The room was too small for the two of them, and Ludwig wished he could fly away. “However, he is your daughter’s soulmate, and you must come to your senses. If something happens to him, Jasmine will suffer too.”

  “My daughter would’ve never consented to touch the dog. She’s an alpha-panther, the purest of the pure.” The man’s anger crumbled and became visceral pain. “And she might die—”

  A knock on the door announced Quintilius, who waved from behind the glass and mouthed, “Clothes,” showing a heap of fabric on his other hand. Relieved, Ludwig made a sign for him to enter.

  ****

  “Mister Cannalis—” Quintilius walked into the room and handed the pants and shirt to the naked were-panther.

  Upon entering the hallway, he had noted the commotion of people milling in front of the waiting room, and his wolf hearing had caught bits and pieces of the heated conversation between Ludwig and the Purist. He had retrieved the change of clothes from the trembling hands of a nurse who didn’t dare interrupt the two men.

  The Purist snatched his offering from his hands without a thank you. “What do you want, wolf?”

  Grief radiated from both the man and his panther, and Quintilius toned down his response, gentling his attitude. “A word with you, panther.”

  The man scoffed and shook his head, but it was a tired gesture. “The great alpha wants a word with me—” His eyes took a menacing glint. He gave Ludwig a long stare, then addressed Quintilius, “Whatever you say to save your dog, I won’t change my mind. Even if the Immortal Council says otherwise, my tribe will seek justice against the rapist.” He enunciated each word of the last sentence slowly, never blinking.

  Although Quintilius already knew the seriousness of the charges against Lupo, hearing him labeled as a rapist hurt him. “My son surrendered himself to save his soulmate’s life.”

  “His son?” The Purist directed his question toward Ludwig, shock on his face.

  Ludwig answered with a nod.

  “I don’t care whose son the dog who hurt my Jasmine is. I want his head—”

  A potent urge of defending Lupo made Quintilius talk over the were-panther. “You won’t do anything to my son. He’s not responsible for following the mating call, and you well know that.”

  “I know nothing of the sort, Purists—”

  Quintilius felt the pain and sorrow of the man as if they were his own, but the shifter was threatening Lupo, and he and his wolf couldn’t allow it. “You’ll—”

  A cell phone rang, startling both of them to silence. The were-panther’s face lit in recognition and leaned over a heap of shredded fabric on the floor. With trembling hands, he took the phone and looked at the screen. Fear passed through his already altered features as he answered.

  On the other end of the line, Quintilius heard clipped words summoning the Purist, and in the background the low keening of a woman crying. The sound sent his heart down to his stomach.

  The man’s hand fell to the side, the cell phone sliding to the floor, as he sprinted toward the door he tore away with an inhuman cry.

  Quintilius found it difficult to breathe, but he gulped air a
nd ran after the were-panther, followed by Ludwig.

  In his wake, the Purist bumped against nurses and visitors who weren’t fast enough to move out of his way. Without pausing, he pushed the ICU’s doors open and sent them against the wall. A few meters along the hallway, helped by two men of her tribe who were supporting her, a Purist woman was crying, while another was comforting her. When the bereft she-panther saw the man striding toward her, she sobbed louder and said, “It’s all my fault. I should’ve watched her—” and collapsed.

  The were-panther was at the woman’s side in two strides, and the two men gently placed her in his arms.

  Quintilius and Ludwig remained at the entrance. The whole place froze, nurses and doctors passing by stopped to give the family a semblance of privacy. The two Purists and the second woman closed around the couple, whispering soothing words.

  From an adjacent room, a doctor came out, and the group opened to let the man approach the embraced couple.

  The doctor shook his head as if answering an unspoken question, then said, “I would call the aura healer.”

  Silence descended upon the hallway, as a mournful procession took place. The Purist couple entered the room the doctor had vacated, and a moment later the rest of the family followed.

  Quintilius’s heart broke at the thought of what the girl’s parents were going through.

  “There’s nothing we can do for them.” Ludwig patted his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They were about to reenter the waiting area, when a door was slammed and an animal growl reached them. Quintilius’s wolf stood at attention, ready to fight, and Quintilius had to contain him before he would attack the Purist father.

  The man, barely in human form, ran toward Quintilius and only stopped a few centimeters from him.

  Hatred and pain distorted the were-panther’s features. “I’ll kill your son, so you’ll feel what I feel.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After enduring his so-called father’s visit and answering the fallen’s questions for hours, Lupo was drained. He hadn’t seen Jasmine since the enforcers had arrived at the scene of the accident and driven them away separately. The archangel had kept him informed about her, but he hadn’t seen the man in a while. His thoughts were scattered in several different directions, but first and foremost he feared for his mate.

  When he saw the shadow darkening the floor under the door, he held his breath, knowing Ludwig Barnes must have come to give him news.

  “How’s she?” Lupo asked as the door opened.

  “Here you are, little brother,” Rock greeted him, then brought a finger to his mouth and tilted his head over his shoulder. “You look like shit.”

  Even though Lupo knew the Reds would find him, he still had hoped it would happen in a different moment. He slightly nodded at Rock, who whispered, “I’m not alone.”

  A moment later, a second Red entered the room. The man, bulkier than Rock, was one of Tancredi’s personal guards.

  “Ready to come back home?” Rock asked out loud, pointing his chin at the door.

  “I can’t,” Lupo said.

  “Tancredi’s waiting for you downstairs,” Rock warned him, his eyes darting to the guard who didn’t utter a word, but limited himself to stare down at Lupo.

  “I was arrested—” Lupo started.

  With a frown, Rock opened his hands to the side. “I see no jailers.”

  Lupo felt as if he were in the middle of a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. “I can’t come with you.”

  “Stop joking and stand up. We’re leaving.” Rock waved his hand to signify Lupo had better hurry.

  Before the big brother could say something else, the guard strode toward the bed and grabbed Lupo by the collar of his scrubs.

  “Out. Now.” The guard smashed Lupo against the wall, then made to punch him in the face.

  A loud roar escaped Lupo’s throat as his fangs descended and he changed. His wolf was at the guard’s jugular before the man’s fist made contact with its intended target.

  Everything happened so fast, Lupo shifted and was back in his body in the blink of an eye. The only evidence he had morphed into his wolf lay on the ground in the form of his shredded clothes and ripped IV lines.

  “Lupo?” With a shocked expression, Rock pointed at the body slumped over Lupo’s legs.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t kill him.” Lupo had commanded his wolf to give the man a good scare, but not to pierce his skin.

  In fact, the guard stirred and pushed himself up, his hand to his neck where the wolf had pressed his fangs in a harmless bite. As he stood on uncertain legs, it was evident that the man’s demeanor had changed, from aggressive to meek. His wolf had instinctively bowed to Lupo’s, accepting the higher hierarchy.

  “Crap—” Realization dawned on Rock, who cursed low as he shook his head. “Little brother, you’re in deeper shit than I thought.”

  Lupo grabbed the linen sheet that in the melee had bundled at the foot of the bed and covered his nakedness. “You don’t know the half of it.” Looking up at the ceiling, he exhaled a long breath, then locked eyes with Rock. “I can’t come back to the Reds.” For more than one reason, but he knew none mattered to his big brother except for the undeniable fact that he was an alpha and a direct contender for Tancredi’s spot.

  “I’ve never seen such control over one’s beast.” Rock didn’t lower his eyes, but he regarded Lupo differently, as if he was looking at him for the first time.

  “I’m talented that way.” Lupo also heard awe in Rock’s voice and had to repress a humorless chuckle. Life sure was a cosmic joke. Only a few days ago, he would have given anything to solicit that kind of response from his big brother. He had delivered V all over Rome in the most dangerous conditions to receive praise from Rock.

  A knock on the door startled everyone. A nurse entered with a tray.

  “I said no visitors—” The woman’s eyes went to the men’s jackets and the Red patch baldy displayed on the black leather, and she paled. Retreating, she left the tray on the stand by the door, dishes rattling, while her free hand went to her pocket.

  Her call for help was heard loud and clear from outside.

  “You better leave before the cavalry arrives.” Lupo indicated the door the woman had just slammed behind her.

  “You know it doesn’t end here.” Rock took the still dazed guard by his elbow and dragged him to the door. “Tancredi will exact his pound of flesh.”

  “I expect nothing less from him.” Lupo brought two fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched hard.

  Running steps echoed from the hallway, and his door was opened without a knock. Two enforcers entered, training their pistols at the Reds.

  “We’re leaving.” Rock raised his hands and the guard followed a moment later.

  “Don’t move,” one of the enforcers said.

  Louder, heavier steps resonated closer, and the archangel appeared at the door, and with him Quintilius.

  “What’s happening here?” Barnes asked, his cerulean eyes focused on Rock, and his voice carrying in the room like a whip.

  “We heard our brother was at the hospital and paid a visit,” Rock answered, maintaining his voice firm and his body still under the cold threat of the angel’s Wrath.

  Lupo’s admiration for Rock grew a notch. A lesser man would have pissed himself. Surprised, Lupo also realized that never in his previous encounters had Ludwig used his Wrath to scare him. A whole different man was dealing with Rock.

  “Is that so?” Quintilius asked Lupo.

  Relaxing against the headboard, Lupo crossed his arms over his chest and pointed his chin at the Reds. “Yes, just a friendly visit.”

  “Get out and don’t come back.” Quintilius held the door for Rock and the guard, who were accompanied outside by the enforcers.

  Before exiting, Rock turned to Lupo. “Take care.”

  Lupo gave him a two-finger salute to the temple, then he sat straighter. Both the ang
el and Quintilius radiated a vibe Lupo didn’t like. He could smell and taste sorrow and his heart sped up as he reached his conclusion for the conjoined visit. “Jasmine—?”

  The archangel stepped back as Quintilius moved forward and toward Lupo.

  Still sitting on the bed, Lupo threw the thin sheet out of the way and jumped up. “Tell me.”

  “Lupo, I’m so sorry—”

  “No!” Lupo ran past Quintilius and pushed Barnes’s hand away when he tried to stop him.

  “Wait. You’re naked,” Quintilius said, but Lupo was in the hallway before he could think, and out of the ER a heartbeat later.

  Automatically following the signs on the walls, he found himself striding through the ICU’s door. His bare feet thumped down on the marble floors at the same rhythm of his heartbeats. People shied away from him as he demanded, “Where’s Jasmine Cannalis?”

  A hand heavily landed on his shoulder, and he snarled without turning, charging forward, his eyes on the row of doors ahead.

  “Stop,” Quintilius’s voice reached him. “Respect her parents’ grief.”

  Somehow, the alpha’s words penetrated the fog surrounding Lupo’s brain, and their finality brought him to his knees. He cried then, his heart shattering in one million pieces as he howled to the Great Wolf. Strong arms circled him, and he didn’t fight them.

  “Come, son.” Quintilius pulled him up as if he were a small pup.

  Barely aware of his surroundings, Lupo was led back to his room. There, Quintilius steered him toward the bed, where a nurse made him wear scrubs and inserted the needle for the IV’s line. She was nervous though and had to try a few times before getting the job done. Impassively, he saw the thin line of blood running down his forearm and wiped it with his palm, before the nurse could dab it with the bundle of cotton she had hastily prepared.

  The woman conferred with Ludwig and Quintilius, then left with a parting, “I’ll come back with the doctor.”

  After his heart, Lupo’s mind too shattered from the unbearable pain. Living in a world without his mate was a truth he could not bear. He wasn’t built to sustain that kind of damage, and his control over reality slipped away one coherent thought at a time. His mind retreated to the only safe place left to him, the past.