Teddie throws aside the kit and shakes his head as if he's disappointed in me.
"Hey. Woah with the judgment," I retort. "I don't come up with the lesson plans."
He brings up a hand to swipe at his forehead, and his body seems to droop. "No. You're right. I know. I just can't believe…"
Caran grins over at him. "Can't believe omegas would train to please their alphas?"
Ted's forehead sinks onto his hand farther, and he doesn't respond. He simply stays like that, stiff and closed.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as my pulse surges.
Did he just have a heart attack?
What the fuck?
My heart pummels my ribs with bruising pounding.
Caran glances over in concern and uses the hand around Ted's shoulder to tap him. "Hon? Hon?"
Ted blinks, and when he glances back up, all the color is gone from his face. He's pale as paper and looks just as fragile. "I just… I need to run to the restroom. I'll be right back."
He hands the phone off to Caran and disappears from the screen.
I stare at my brother's omega, and he stares back at me.
"He's not going to be right back, is he?" I ask.
Caran swallows hard and glances down at his lap before he shakes his head. "No."
"How bad is it?"
Caran's face falls. His lips press together, and the motion makes my chest grow tight with trepidation.
"What?" I can tell it's not good.
But I need to know just how bad it actually is.
"He has good moments. But they're getting farther and farther apart," Caran finally replies, and the haunted expression on his face rasps me raw.
Pulling the phone closer, suddenly claustrophobic even though I'm inside a massive tent that's the size of most people's living rooms, I try to study every micro-expression on my brother's omega's face. "How bad is he now?"
He shrugs, and his gaze drifts to one side, the motion casual, though I can tell he's falling apart within. For the first time since I joined my men, my pulse stutters.
"I was able to give him a last dose of medicine before the whole safe-house, castle quarantine debacle. But it's run out." He doesn't follow up that statement because we've both seen what it's like when Teddie doesn't get medicine.
My brother is wasting away little by little.
I clear my throat and glance at the tent flap. Colter is still standing just outside. I'm sure he heard me start this conversation and is trying to give me my privacy. But the gaping wound in my chest tempts me to call him in here, to wrap me up in a hug, as if he could staunch my bleeding heart.
I don't think there's any stopping it. Not with what I know. Still, my instinct to nestle into his strength is nearly overpowering.
But I don't say his name.
Not when I have to ask the next delicate question. "Do…do you think you could get more?"
Caran stares morosely back at me for a long moment, and I know his answer before he says it aloud. "No. I had a source. But they're gone."
We stay on the line, staring silently at one another, stewing in mutual grief.
