Chapter Nineteen

I knelt down at Logan's side and handed him his pants, wishing to god he'd be strong enough to pull them on himself. "Antonio and the Pack are on their way. Just hang on." I murmured to him and brushed some hair off his face.

"Mutt, is he dead?" Logan gasped.

I nodded feverishly, "Very."

"Good," he moaned.

I looked around helplessly. Injured people were not my forte and right now I had not a clue as to what I should be doing. "Move your hand," I finally ordered, and gently pried his hand away from his stomach. The wound was horrific, and I really don't consider myself a squeamish person. Blood cascaded from the long tear in his skin and I smelled the sickening stench of bile from his intestines. I really thought I would pass out.

Logan closed his eyes and I slapped his cheek a bit harder than necessary, "Don't you dare close your eyes, Logan. The Pack is almost here." I took his jeans that he wasn't putting on and ripped off a leg. I bunched the thick material on his wound and tied another strip of jean around his waist to hold it on. That's what you were supposed to do for things like this wasn't it? Bandage it to staunch the flow? God I hoped so.

He blinked slowly, "Did you kill the mutt?"

I frowned and my eyes teared up further, "Logan, you already asked that. Yes, he's dead."

He smiled sheepishly before his face contorted into pain again, "Oops, I forgot." And then he did something that if- no when- he recovered I'd tease him about for the rest of his life; he giggled like a little girl. Upon hearing that, I also giggled, which in seconds transformed into hysterical laughter. I only sobered up when I heard some crashing in the trees. I managed to pull myself up onto my feet and drop into a ready fighting stance. Although, honestly, I know I couldn't have done much damage against anyone who wished me harm; human or supernatural.

"Kaine, it's just us," I heard a familiar voice to my left and almost collapsed in relief.

"Kat? Over here," I croaked and limped back to Logan. A split-second later five shadows fell over me and a sixth person hugged my shoulders and guided me away from Logan. I looked into Kat's eyes, "He's dying," I whispered.

Kat's eyes were watery as she looked over my shoulder to where Jeremy, Nick and Morgan worked over Logan. Elena and Clay were scoping the forest. She looked back to me, "They're taking him to a supernatural hospital. Cabal owned."

"Cabal?" irrelevant question, but I needed to take my mind off Logan.

Kat looked grateful for the brief reprieve of worrying too, "Cabal's are big supernatural organizations run by sorcerers. Lucas' dad runs one and pulled some strings for us. It's the best treatment Logan could possibly have."

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later, I sat on a scratchy vinyl chair in a fakely cheery lobby. I got up and started to pace, again. Less than two hours ago I had suffered a leg injury so severe most of the time it requires amputation, yet I could already walk. Even a normal werewolf shouldn't have been up and going so soon. Meaning it was probably something to do with my fucked-up genes.

Just like me winning against Sasha. There was no way in hell I should have been able to do that. According to a near heartbroken, yet totally composed, Roman, Sasha had been one of their best fighters. And me, being very inexperienced in werewolf fighting, shouldn't have stood a chance against him. So again, thanks ado to wonky genetic engineering.

And for all the help my genes did, they still couldn't help me save Logan. He was in surgery now; they were trying to stitch up some internal wounds. According to a conversation I overheard between the doctor and a nurse, he had a less than fifty percent chance of making it, even with his werewolf healing.

"Kaine, sit down, you're making the other patients nervous," Antonio rebuffed me. Funny, he didn't say a word to Clay or Elena when they practically went on a rampage through the hospital when we first arrived. Ever since the other supernaturals in the hospital found out what we were, we were practically given a whole wing to ourselves. The only ones brave enough to come close were a young boy and one of the doctors. The boy barely even saw us before being whisked away by his mother. And the doctor was only there because he was being commanded to by the person who signed his paycheck.

I grudgingly sat and grabbed a magazine without bothering to check the title. I furiously flipped through the pages without reading any of them, and then threw the magazine back onto the table. I growled softly and slid down into my seat. I made it a minute before resuming my pacing.

My leg would twinge every couple steps, but the pain actually managed to clear my head. I had already lost William, no freakin' way I'd let Logan die too. If he did, I'd haunt him in his afterlife.

"Mr. Danvers is out of surgery, you can see him in his room now," a guy in green scrubs informed us. The sad part? I don't think any of us even heard him coming that's how distressed we were.

Before he finished his sentence, Elena, Clay, Kat, Jeremy, me, Nick, and Antonio were jogging to room 48D, in that order. It took all my willpower to let Elena and them go before me, and I managed, until Nick, who I promptly cut off. In probably hospital record speed, we got to Logan's room in under a minute.

He was so pale, so weak and fragile. His eyelids were closed but you could see his blue orbs flitting around underneath them in restless sleep. An IV dripped into his wrist and his midsection was bulkier because of all the bandaging. As I looked at Logan's prone form, I could hear Jeremy talking to the doctor outside the room.

"Sir, just because he's out of surgery doesn't give him a hundred percent chance of making it. Far from it," if the doc kept saying stuff like that then I'd make sure he didn't have a hundred percent chance of making it.

"What are the odds?" Jeremy's calm voice helped to soothe my nerves some.

"Fifty-fifty, what with the posibility of infection and the severity of the wound. Still, he's young, and with a werewolf's healing capabilities, his chances are a lot better than a human's."

Jeremy must have dismissed him because they stopped talking.

Elena was holding one of her son's hands, and Clay held her. Kat sat on the other side of Logan and also had his hand. I felt out of place. I wanted to touch Logan so bad, but I felt so intrusive. Sure I was his mate, but these people were his family. I knew him for a month, they knew him for seventeen years. So I sat in a corner chair and watched the scene in front of me, completely at a loss of what to do.

After a minute of that, Kat looked up and around the room until her eyes landed on me. She lifted her free hand and beckoned to me with her index finger. I stood up slowly and walked over next to her. Kat whispered, "Take my seat, I'll be right back." Then she turned and left the small room.

I folded Logan's hand into my own and didn't even realize any time had passed until Kat came back. I made a move to stand but she pushed my shoulder down and knelt down beside her brother's bed instead. With all the Pack crowded around one gorgeous, blue eyed, blonde haired boy, I'm sure we made quite the spectacle from the window that took up a whole wall overlooking the hallway.

And with a short spark of brain activity, it occurred to me that I was part of this family now too. I, Kaine Arden, former mutt, was part of probably the oddest, weirdest, and awesome-est family in America. I was Pack.

XXXXXXXXXX

Five days later we all stood in front of a large building in a parking lot, airplanes taking off of the airstrip behind us. The Russian Pack members- Roman, Lev and Grigori- were here also to say their goodbyes.

Elena and Roman stood slightly off to the side and whispered under their breath so no one could here them. Not that it really mattered since us English speaking folks seemed to be playing charades with our Russian counterparts.

"I think that means thank you," Logan interpreted one of Lev's hand gestures. Logan had taken all of five days to heal from a deadly wound. The doctors didn't know rather they wanted to keep him there to study or throw him out ASAP; he was after all, a werewolf. Lucky for them they opted for option number two. Logan was fine except for some scaring and bruises. Even the scares would fade almost away in a matter of days. So all was well in the corner of my life labeled 'Logan: Pain in thy Ass.'

"Thank you," I told them. I mean, the mutt's demise was due partly to the twins and their pyrotechnics. This, as I learned earlier, was how we got away with blowing up the UK's mansion.

Grigori nodded and him and his twin stepped forward and gave me a bone crushing hug like I was some long lost sister. Well I guess I probably was their cousin or something. They also hugged Kat and shook all the men's hands, except for Clay's of course.

Our Alphas joined us again. Roman also tried to crush my lungs in a hug, "Kaine, thank you for helping us get rid of mutt." He released his grip and stared me in my eyes.

"My pleasure, and thank you," I amended.

Roman gently took my elbow and guided me away from everyone else as him and Elena had done a few minutes earlier. "Logan told me you wanted rest of note Sasha left interpreted. I not sure you will after I tell you, but I owe this much. In nut bomb," I almost laughed at Roman's misuse of the American metaphor for 'nutshell', "he confess he kill your parents. Your father found out Sasha worked for Boris, and mother just got in way."

My face fell from the happy smile it was molded into earlier into a frown. Can't say I didn't expect it, I just didn't want to hear it. "Thank you Roman. Thank you so much."

He nodded and patted my cheek in a grandfatherly way. "I sorry you had to hear that."

I shrugged, "I didn't know them anyways. It shouldn't bother me."

From his gaze I knew he was thinking, 'it shouldn't, but it does.' Instead of saying it though, he merely smiled at me, "You welcome to visit our Pack whenever you want, Kaine, would be honor."

Briefly I wondered if I had any relatives I was missing out on, but decided not to go down that path, not yet. "I hope everything went well with your son."

Roman's smile darkened, "Me as well."

We ambled back to our respective Packs and said one final goodbye before we Americans entered the airport with our baggage. The Russian's were going to stay in England for a few more days and tie up some loose ends. Then they'd fly back to Russia in their private plane. Turns out, they were pretty rich.

Logan playfully bumped into me, "So, SuperWolf, what are you gonna do when we get home?" He might have framed it playfully, but I knew he was really worried we wouldn't get to see each other again. I had the same fear too.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, "I have to talk to my parents." I had spent my time in the hospital with Logan going back and forth between worrying about him and my parents when they found out their only son was dead.

Logan looked down on me sympathetically, and I had to wonder if he had ever had to tell someone their son was dead. Probably not, the Pack wasn't much for sending flowers to mutts' families. He threw his bag on the luggage checker and I followed suit. "Maybe you should stay at our house for a night and get some rest before seeing them," Logan offered, and although it was tempting to just put it off for another day, I knew it was better to get things done now rather than later.

I shook my head, "I can't do that. It has to be done now."

He nodded solemnly and we grabbed our bags off the belt and bought our tickets at the counter. It was surprisingly quick compared to our last plane trip. We sat in a cramped, smelly room to wait for our flight. Luckily, there were only about seven humans in there with us.

Noah turned to Kat (they sat across from Logan and I) and told her news I could see she'd been dying to hear forever, "Alex will be visiting tomorrow from Africa."

Kat's eyes sparkled, but she kept her face straight ahead, never looking up from the book she was reading, "Really? Why?"

I almost laughed as she tried to keep a straight face. Noah nodded, "Yeah, I don't know why, though. Probably just to visit." He shrugged and returned to his Sports Illustrated.

Kat was fidgety for the rest of the hour we were made to sit there waiting for our plane. Logan and I really didn't talk. It wasn't one of those awkward silences some people get when no one talked. It was a comfortable one where no one was pressured to say anything, it was nice.

Finally, our plane was ready to take off and we boarded. This time Nick and I were sitting next to each other, Logan sat a couple rows back and in the next row over next to Morgan.

"How's the leg?" Nick asked with a sly smile that never really leaves his face. Our plane had been in the air for twenty minutes.

I flexed it, "Good, completely healed."

Nick nodded, "That's good. The way you've been going, you're gonna need it," he smiled.

I grimaced, "Gee, thanks."

He chuckled, "Well really, you've had more enemies in the month you've been a werewolf than most people have in their entire lives."

I smiled sweetly, "I try my hardest." We were silent for a half an hour. Then I asked, really quietly, with my eyes down at my hands, "What happened to William?"

Nick hesitated, "the Russians are going to take him back with them and bury him in their cemetery."

I was surprised, "Their cemetery? William was on the bad guy side, why'd they honor him?"

Nick looked at me strangely, "He died defending you, and he's your brother. They really like you Kaine; for reasons unbeknownst to me."

I swatted his arm. Usually I don't interact with people well (I've been told on many the occasion my people skills suck), but Nick was a really easy person to talk to. Not like the general population. "I wonder how my parents are going to take it," I murmured under my breath.

Nick, however, still heard me, "They'll be pissed and heartbroken and in shock among other emotions." Something in his voice was… off.

"You sound like you've experienced it," I prodded, not really expecting anything to come of it.

He looked down at his folded hands on his lap and said quietly, "I have. My son, a few years ago."

"You had a son? I'm so sorry," sure I had wanted to know, but I was in over my head. I don't do well with emotions, mine or anyone else's.

Nick nodded, "It was against the rules, but sometimes I'd let Dominic see his mother," he looked at me and quickly added, "Jeremy knew of course. Anyways, we were there at Sam's house for the day, but I got a call to get to the office right away. I asked Sam to watch him for a couple hours. He was only nine, he shouldn't have gotten into trouble." Nick paused and took a shaky breath, "When I got back there were ambulances and Jeremy was waiting. Turns out Dominic had slipped into the neighbors dog pen were they had a Rottweiler. His scent messed with the dog's brain and it mauled him. He died in the backyard."

I remained in total shocked silence. What happened to his son was horrible. "I- I'm so sorry," I stammered.

Nick smiled at me and suddenly that easy smile of his was back on his face, "It happened a while ago, I'm fine now."

I really hoped so because in no freaking way was I knowledgeable in the Art of Comforting Grieving Werewolves Who had Lost a Son to Mauling. You see, I skipped that class last semester.

For the next six hours I would doze off and on. When I was awake I'd talk to Nick or eat some snacks I'd managed to sneak onboard. Thankfully, it was a pretty uneventful flight. We flew into the Albany airport at 11:00 that night. Nick, Antonio, Reese, and Noah left for their estate from the airport parking lot. And then Hope, Karl, and Morgan also left to their respective homes.

After much internal debating, I decided it would probably be better to wait until morning to talk to my parents because no doubt they'd be sleeping. Besides, tomorrow was Saturday and they'd be home most of the day. So Elena, Clay, Jeremy, Logan, Kat, and I loaded into two vehicles and drove back to Stonehaven. It took almost two hours to get there, and by the time we did my butt was so numb I'd thought it'd fall off.

I'm almost positive that as soon as we walked in that door we all went to bed. I know it took me all I had to walk up the steps into the spare room before collapsing.
_

I'm strapped to a lab table and I can't move an inch. The poison's coursing through my body and I can't do a thing to stop it. Nothing. I am helpless.

Boris' face comes into view and he smiles at me. I struggle against the impossibly tight restraints. Then I open my mouth to try to use my never-ending sarcasm as an advantage. But I can't talk, not a sound.

My next pleasant surprise was William. He hovers right on the edge of my vision with a big-ass needle. "Hold still Kaine." He growls at me before shoving the needle under my skin. I try to scream, it hurt so bad, way worse than any needle should have.

William comes farther into my line of sight, "Don't scream Kaine, it's your fault I'm here; you and your stupid Pack's. It's all your fault I'm dead." And then suddenly I am looking at his corpse, the one I'd refused to look at as we left the lab. It is bruised and battered and one of his eyes is missing where Boris' cane had entered his skull. A stream of blood pulses from the hole and it is worse than anything I have ever seen. Worse even than Logan's wound.

I start to cry; part in frustration and part in pure sorrow. My sobs are silent although that does nothing to stop the tears until they are literally drowning me.

I cough and splutter and try my hardest to stop the flow, but I just can't. Every time I look at William they flow faster. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stop them. But I am dying. I am drowning in my own tears. I open my eyes again and start to thrash my hardest. But I can't.

William smiles softly above me, "Don't fight Kaine. You know it's your fault. You deserve to die."

And I do. I suffocate on my own tears of sorrow.
_

I woke up coughing and screaming. Weird combination, but I did. And for the briefest, almost most horrible seconds of my life I thought my dream was true and I really was drowning. Then I opened my eyes and instead of William I saw Logan.

"Kaine? Kaine, wake up," he coaxed, shaking my shoulder.

I sat up with a gasp, running right into his bare chest. Under any other circumstance I would have blushed and fully enjoyed the experience. This time however, I was totally oblivious to any and all emotions it produced. "William, he-he was r-right there. I-I was dr-drowning."

Logan gently pushed me back down onto the bed and sat on the edge, stroking my hair. "Calm down, it was a dream."

I knew it was a damn dream, but it still freaked me out beyond comparison of anything I'd ever seen. I breathed in and out twice and decided I could speak, "I'm sorry I woke you, I'm fine now."

He hesitated then nodded and took his hand away from my face, "Do you want to talk abut it?"

Not really, but it always helped me as a child to do so, "If you really don't mind."

He shook his head and motioned for me to scoot over. I did and he climbed into bed next to me (which was not near as dirty as it sounds considering I'm pretty sure I was silently crying). Logan put his arm behind my neck and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"I-I was back in the lab," I began. "William was there and he shot something into my arm. The-then he started blaming me for his d-d-death. He changed so he looked like he did a-after he d-died. I started to cry and then I was d-drowning. I died just as you woke me up." If you need help putting into perspective just how freaked out I was I only need to tell you I had never stuttered in my life until now.

Logan rubbed my arm, "You know he'd never say that stuff to you. He loved you."

I nodded and felt embarrassed about being scared now that I'd said my dream out loud. "I know, it was just so real."

He scooted farther down into the bed and took me with him, "Go to sleep. I'll stay here if you want me to." His voice was so indifferent and I knew he was trying to hide the hope that I did, in fact, want him there. Which, of course, I did.

In answer I moved closer to him and wrapped my arm around his midsection, expertly avoiding all the bruises and still tender scars. He kissed the top of my head and we fell back to sleep.