“Shhh, it’s okay, cari. It’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s not.” I sobbed, choking on blood, and tears, and bitter pain and grief. “It’s not ever gonna be okay again.”

“Oh, sure it will. I know how to make her feel all better…” Colin Dean said from somewhere over me, already laughing again.

“Take one more step and I’ll kill you,” Marc said, talking to Dean, though his gaze never left me.

Dean laughed harder. “Why don’t you pick up the pieces of your Alpha and get the hell out of here.”

Marc stood then and growled until my mother told him to stop.

I tried to sit up again, but I couldn’t. Everything hurt, and the whole world slanted when I moved my head.

“Faythe?” It was Dr. Carver. He knelt next to me in his good slacks, still dressed from the funeral. Which would be convenient if I were dying. “Can you hear me?”

I started to nod, but that hurt my head. “Yeah,” I rasped instead.

“Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?”

“Front yard.” Bruising hands. Tilting house. Collision with the earth. “I think I got drop-kicked.”

Dean laughed again, and there was more growling, from several sources this time.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain, but can you move your feet for me?” Dr. Carver asked, and panic set in, tingling like my whole body had gone to sleep. He was testing for a spinal injury.

No… I moved my right foot, flexing my calf, and the surge of relief was like aloe on a sunburn. I did the same with my left foot, and pain shot through my hip. But pain was good, right? That meant I could still feel.

Carver smiled like I’d just done a nifty trick. “Okay, now your fingers…”

I flexed both hands at once, and this time my left shoulder screamed in pain just like my hip had. And vaguely I remembered hitting the ground on my left side….

“Okay, let’s get her inside. Be careful with her head.”

“I’ve got you,” Jace whispered, but I couldn’t smell him. I could only smell my own blood. He lifted me, and the world pitched harder. I clung to him, terrified that I was flying again. Or falling. “Just hold on…”

“Put her in the car,” Marc said, and his footsteps jogged to catch up with us. “I’ll ride in back with her. We can stop for supplies on the way.”

“You don’t have to go,” someone else said, but my eyes had closed again, and I couldn’t place the voice, though it sounded familiar. “I mean it. At least let her rest in her own bed for a while first. It doesn’t have to be…like this.”

Marc growled, expressing more in that fierce, furious sound than I could have managed in a thousand words. “Kent, get out of my way before I rip your face right off your head.”

“He’s right,” Jace said, squeezing me a little tighter. “Let her rest before we go.”

“Go?” I murmured.

No one answered me. “She can’t stay here. With them,” Marc insisted, and I tried to look at him, but my eyes—my eye, anyway—wouldn’t stay open.

“No one’s going to touch her. You can stay with her. Both of you. I just feel bad putting you all out while she’s still unconscious.”

“I’m not…” I started, but I lost the rest of the words in a fog of pain and confusion.

“Fine. But if you come within fifteen feet of her bedroom door, I’ll feed you your own fingers, one at a time.”

“He’s not even coming inside,” my mother insisted from somewhere nearby, and I thought I felt her cold hand on my forehead. “None of them are.”

“Now, Karen, it’s his house now…” Calvin Malone chided, and I flinched at the sound of his voice, though his words made little sense.

“We’ll wait,” Kenton said, with an impressive note of finality. “Take your time.”

Jace tightened his grip, and when he jostled me, I forced my eye open to see that we were going up the steps. The porch roof came into half focus, then he turned to carry me through the front door sideways. I tried to thank him, but then everything went dark. Again.

“Faythe, you have to wake up.” It was Jace this time. Something cold and wet touched my cheek, and I tried to jerk away from it. But moving hurt, and I could only moan. “Hold still,” he whispered.

“I’m tired. And that’s cold.” I shoved at the wet rag in spite of the pain in my shoulder, and Jace laughed. But it was a relieved, half-panicked laugh, not a happy one.

The bed groaned beneath his shifting weight, and the ambient red behind my eyelids brightened when he leaned away from me. “She’s making sense. Doc, she’s awake and coherent.”

“Good.” Carver’s decisive footsteps crossed the room toward us. “Faythe, do you feel dizzy at all? Any nausea?”

I opened my functioning eye to see his blurry, concerned face. “A little dizzy. But mostly I just hurt. Everywhere.”

“I know. Let’s get a look at her ribs.”

I pushed at his hands as he tried to lift my shirt. “I just want to sleep.”

Jace shook his head, frowning. “You need to let the doctor check you out. You’re hurt pretty bad, Faythe.”

Hurt. Shit. Malone. Kenton Pierce. Colin Dean. Nonononono! I’d lost the Pride. The entire Pride. Everyone. I’d lost them all. Except…