Chapter 239
239 The Fever
Third Person POV
“No… impossible!”
Ulrich’s denial came like a roar. He clung to his belief that he was different, that he had escaped what others could not.
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Aubrey only smiled faintly. “As the wolf doctor who specializes in the Kajit virus, I understand it better than you. And…”
Her voice dipped, carrying a chilling amusement. “Once you become my living subject, once treatment begins, the virus’s numbing effect will weaken. You’ll feel everything—the same agony as any other patient. And because your body is unique, I’ll make sure you live longer than most, so my research can continue. You’ll linger in pain day after day, wishing for death that won’t come. I’ll see to it that every hour stretches into a year.”
Her tone was soft, but the echo of it filled the stone chamber like ice water, seeping into Ulrich’s bones.
She went on, voice flat, eyes like knives. “The virus will burn you from the inside, but the trials will be worse. Every serum will clash against the infection–sometimes the drug will win, sometimes the virus will strike back. Do you know what it’s like to hurt until your mind blacks out, only to wake in fresh agony moments later? Three days of that, bound tight so you can’t thrash free, a gag crammed in your mouth while you bleed from your eyes as if your skull itself were tearing apart… You’ll learn to cherish that kind of living death.”
These weren’t empty threats. They were memories–etched scars in Aubrey’s own mind, the torment she herself had endured.
For the first time in his life, Ulrich felt true fear. Her words carried no bravado, only certainty. The horror she described was not a possibility—it
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239 The Fever
was his future.
:
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When Aubrey left the basement and climbed back to the surface, sunlight streamed through the leaves overhead. She lifted a hand, shielding her eyes, peering at the blazing disk between her fingers.
Warm. Bright.
For the first time, it felt like rebirth. With Ulrich, the source of the virus, in her grasp, she knew the true Lupine strain would never resurface.
Relief loosened her chest. And with it came weakness. Her vision swam, her body tilted. Just before her consciousness fled, she felt someone catch her in strong arms.
By midnight, when the Shadowmoon Pack’s private plane landed, Aubrey still lay in Henry’s hold, deeply asleep.
But his hand kept returning to her brow, checking, checking—until at last he froze.
“She’s burning up…”
Aubrey had a fever.
The words ripped through him like a blade, Terror engulfed him, drowning all composure. His sharp mind—always decisive, always in control–went blank, leaving only instinct. He clutched her tighter, eyes wild, and bellowed for the driver to fly them home at once.
The moment they arrived, Henry carried her in a blur of motion straight into the Shadowmoon Pack’s Level Four virus lab.
“Xavier! Ginnie! Save her! You must save her!”
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239 The Fever
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+8 Pearls
The antibodies had failed. Aubrey wasn’t the one–in–a–hundred miracle. Instead, the virus flared hotter than ever, flames licking through her veins.
A thermometer’s harsh beep read forty–two degrees.
For an omega, this fever was fatal. Her mind would burn, leaving only ruin.
“I said save her!!”
Henry’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. His fist tangled in Xavier’s coat, dragging the wolf doctor close. Gone was the aloof young alpha who carried himself like a prince–what stood before him now was a beast, eyes bloodshot, trembling with rage and terror, seconds away from tearing flesh.
Xavier swallowed hard, words faltering. He saw it in Henry’s eyes: refusal meant death.
“I… I’ll try,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll do everything I can.”
Even if the odds were close to none.
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