Page 33 of Evan and the Alpha

10

Evan

No no no no no—”

I’m sick. I’m dizzy. My heart’s pounding in my ears. I want to cry. I want to scream. I think I am crying and screaming, but it’s not enough.

I shove people aside, until I’m free of the throng that gathered to watch the fight. My bare feet slip on the sand, and I ungracefully trip across the ring to land on my knees beside Sobek. He’s flat on his back, and there’s blood everywhere. I can barely see straight. What the fuck am I supposed to do for a wound like this? I try, desperately, to recall the medical training we were all given before boarding theColumbia. Space travel is wickedly dangerous, so we all needed to know how to treat burns and hypothermia and choking and major injuries.

I can’t remember a goddamn thing. All I know is Sobek’s dying—maybe dead—and I can’t stand that thought. I slam my hands against his chest. “You can’t die!” I scream at him. “You can’t! You can’t!”

I grind my teeth. I look helplessly at the crowd, all of them watching me. I don’t care. Sobek is dying. I feel like I’m dying with him. “Help him!” I yell. “One of you, help him! He’s going to die!”

Tiakka, the old bookkeeper, looms over me suddenly. “If he dies, he dies. It’s the will of the gods.”

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open in horror. Then I grab a fistful of sand and fling it at him. “You fucking prick!” I bark. “That’s not the will of the gods, if he dies it’s because you didn’t help him! Oh my God, somebody!”

Nobody moves a muscle. I can’t believe this. I look back at Sobek. There’s so much blood. So much goddamn blood. Oh my God. I’m going to throw up or pass out.

I press my hands against the wound, as hard as I can. The tears really come then, clouding my vision, pouring down my cheeks. “Don’t die,” I whisper, “don’t die, Sobek, please don’t die, I don’t want you to die.”

I snivel miserably when he doesn’t so much as twitch. A sob wrenches free of my throat, followed by another. Then another. I fling myself over him, vaguely aware I should try to keep pressure on the wound but mostly just drowning in my own misery.

Is this seriously how itends? I finally convinced him to let me stay with him, and then he dies the very next day? In a ridiculous alpha pissing match over me?

I slam my fist against his chest. I’m so … angry! And heartbroken. I sob pathetically.

There’s a gentle hand on my shoulder, peeling me off Sobek’s body. They push me back. I don’t recognize the face—maybe because of my tears. But this kroakka at least gives me a sympathetic look, the kind you give to someone who just lost something very precious. My heart knots, chokes me.

“No.” My voice is raw. My throat hurts. “No—”

I reach for him, but they keep pushing me back. “No, no, no—don’t take him away from me, no—”

The wound’s uncovered. It’s raw and ragged, wicked and sharp. Sobek is so pink inside. Blood’s still seeping from it. I want to throw up, but it comes out as a strangled sob instead. Somebody is holding me down, preventing me from getting to him.

They heft him up. They’re taking him away from me. I don’t want to be left here without him. I don’t want to go anywhere without Sobek.

“Hush,” says a familiar voice in my ear.

I look up through my tears. Ge-Ro has his hands firmly on me. “Hush,” he says again.

“They’re taking him to his phapha’s house,” Yafir says as he materializes out of the crowd.

My stomach gives a violent lurch. I grab at one of Ge-Ro’s hands, trying to steady myself. Yafir glances down at me, almost pityingly. “Let’s go to the house,” he suggests.

“Can you stand?” Ge-Ro inquires.

I try. I really do. But I just want to sit in the sand, in the last place Sobek stood. The last place he was alive.

Yafir looks worried. Ge-Ro hefts me up instead. I remember how easily Sobek picked me up, just this morning. The tears start anew. I push my face against Ge-Ro’s shoulder.

I shouldn’t be this broken up, I know. I haven’t known Sobek that long. We only hooked up last night. I didn’t even feel this devastated about my own grandma dying, and I’d known her all my life.

There’s a big commotion when we arrive at the house of Sobek’s phapha—his alpha parent, I guess. Wek and Kiki are there; Kiki shushes me harshly.

“You should be more like Sobek’s omom,” Wek chides, lifting my chin and pointing across the way. Sobek’s omega parent is sitting quietly at the table, knees all tucked up. The only sign he’s upset is the tiny tremor going through the cup of tea he’s holding.

I bite my lip. I don’t feel like I can be that serene.