Before he gets any other terrible ideas, I whistle sharply and summon my hound. Melody materializes in front of me instantly, her spectral form crackling with otherworldly energy. She plants herself between Rowan and us, a low growl rumbling from her throat that makes the air itself vibrate.
Rowan takes a step back, catching on too damn quickly as he sees the air ripple and dodges the bark she releases. “Impressive. But I’m not here for you today.” He straightens his tie with infuriating calm. “I’ll be in touch soon, Dodger.”
“Help!” I shout desperately as people start to realize something is wrong. “Someone call for help! Please!”
By the time I look back, Rowan has melted into the crowd like smoke. Harper’s weight is heavy against me, and blood continues to seep from the wound.
We were wrong. So fucking wrong. We thought Rowan would come for me directly, that I was the target. But he didn’t want to capture me today. He wanted to take away my protection first.
And now Harper’s hurt because of me.
Even Wolves Get Hurt
Dodger
A stab wound to the gut isn’t pretty. Neither is being the guy waiting for news about the patient with a stab wound to the gut. Hours crawled by in a sterile waiting room, not to mention my arguing with nurses and nearly getting thrown out by security.
Finally, they let me see him. I burst through the hospital room door, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Harper!” My voice cracks as I rush to his bedside.
His normally tanned skin is sickly pale against the stark white hospital sheets. Dark circles shadow his eyes, a large bandage visible under the thin hospital gown. The sight of him—Detective Ethan Harper, the fierce wolf who’s been protecting me—looking so vulnerable makes my stomach twist.
“Are you okay?” I ask, wanting to kick myself. Of course he’s not okay, you idiot.
“Seen better days.” He tries to lever himself up and his sharp intake of breath has me moving to help.
“Here, let me—” I slide an arm behind his broad shoulders to help him sit up, feeling the heat of his skin burn through the thin cotton gown. Solid muscle shifts beneath my palm as I ease him upright. He’s okay. Alive. Sure, sitting up isn’t normally a two-person job, but he’s conscious and alert. It should make me feel better. But him being here in the hospital, carved openand stitched back together, injured because of me… I don’t feel better, not even close.
“You shouldn’t move too much,” I fuss, arranging his blankets once he’s settled. “The nurse said you need to rest. Do you need water? Are you in pain? Should I call someone?”
Harper’s golden eyes track my nervous movements. “Dodger. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine! You’re in a hospital bed! You could have—” My voice cracks and I have to look away, blinking rapidly.
“Hey.” His large hand captures mine, stilling my fidgeting. “I’m okay. Really.”
“Do you even remember what happened?”
Harper’s brow furrows, his eyes going distant. “We were on the streets of Concordia, you and me. Then Rowan showed up and...” He trails off, frustration evident in the tightening of his jaw. “I remember smelling your fear. You were so afraid. I wanted to help you, but… I’m not sure. Everything gets... hazy.”
I sink into the chair beside his bed. “Rowan attacked you in Concordia. Right in the middle of the street. The doctors said the blade was special. Coated with something that’s slowing down your healing. They’ve got you stabilized, but they’re still working on fixing whatever it is so your accelerated healing can kick in.” I glance at the monitors beside his bed, the steady beeping reassuring. “And that fancy pocket watch of his? Turns out it does more than tell time. It stunned you and messed with your memory.”
“The watch...”
“Yeah. I think it disorients people and erases small amounts of time, but it didn’t work right because he tried to take too much at once.”
Harper’s expression shifts, the detective side taking over even in his hospital bed. I can practically see the gears turning in his head.
“Erasing memories, that’s not legal without consent. So that’s how he did it,” he murmurs. “That’s how Rowan framed Jonathan for the dragon attack. He used the watch on the witnesses, erased their memories, and then fed them his own version where Jonathan was responsible.”
I nod along. That makes sense. If I’d spared a thought for Rowan beyond retribution and curse words, I could have connected those dots myself. The watch, the knife, it all fits how the weak witch operates. Buying tools from those with real magic, twisting everything for his own purposes.
Harper laughs, then immediately winces, his hand going to his bandaged abdomen. “Well, we wanted to know how he did it. Be careful what you wish for.”
