"I'm not sure it would be safe for me once I’ve given birth.” Enar would have to have heard of it by now, right? No way a doctor specialized in treating pregnant omegas wouldn't know. And so he took the jump. "I have the Melloni gene."

  Enar merely nodded. "I figured that might be the case, considering how tightlipped you were about the father of your baby and how your pregnancy started. Which is your right, by the way. But we're fully equipped to house omegas with the gene. We have separate houses where you can ride out your heat when it starts again, and we have several alphas who are willing to help you through your heat and who we can vouch for."

  With an offer like that, how could he refuse? Even if it turned out to be not quite as idyllic as Enar presented it, it still beat the hell out of living on the streets. If he could stay here until the baby was born, that would be enough for now. Hell, he'd even have a qualified ob-gyn to help him deliver her.

  "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll gladly accept your offer."

  Enar smiled at him. "I'm happy to hear that. But there is one more thing you should know before you make your final decision."

  3

  Naran Watkins was in pain. That in itself was nothing special, since pain and agony had become his constant companions over the last months, but it never failed to frustrate him. He pushed himself into a sitting position in his bed and placed pillows underneath his knees to support his useless legs. Even that small effort drained his energy, a testament to how much strength he had lost.

  God, once upon a time he'd been the fittest soldier in his platoon by far. He'd outbench-pressed them all, had out-ran them all, especially when they'd done practice runs with heavy loads. He'd been the poster child of a soldier in tip-top shape, the pride and joy of his platoon sergeant.

  And look at him now. His body was withering away, his muscles shrinking from lack of use. His legs were the worst since they hadn't gotten any exercise since… No, he couldn't go there. Not again. The fact that he relived that nightmare every night in his dreams was bad enough. He couldn't afford to spend any time on it during the day.

  A knock sounded on his door, and Maz, one of the two doctors in the pack, stuck his head around the corner. "Can I come in?"

  Naran gestured. "Please."

  Maz found a spot on the reading chair next to his bed. One look at his face and Naran's stomach sank. "Not good news, I take it?"

  Maz shook his head. "I'm sorry, Naran. I really wish there was more we could do for you. But Enar agrees with me. Before we can do anything else, we'd need X-rays of your legs, and that's impossible right now."

  Naran let out a long sigh. The chances had been slim anyway, but to hear this verdict, it still wasn't easy. He didn't blame Enar or Maz. They had done everything they could, but by the time he'd gotten to the ranch, his legs, which had been broken in several places, had healed already, just not in the right way. The bones had grown together, but misaligned, leaving him with legs that wouldn't hold his weight and that constantly hurt.

  And the Hayes clinic wasn't set up for this. It didn't have the X-ray machine they would need to see where the problems were exactly. Oh, you felt it when you followed the bones in his legs. Or in his case, when he followed the source of the pain. But he understood that for the two doctors that was not enough information to go on, even more since neither of them was an orthopedic surgeon. They were ob-gyns, not trained for these types of injuries.

  Still, he'd hoped. And now that last bit of hope was gone. "I understand," he forced himself to say. He couldn't take his anger out on Maz. It wasn't his fault, and the alpha had been nothing but kind toward him.

  "We may be able to do more when things return to normal," Maz said. "But with the current state of emergency and under martial law, we don't have access to a hospital. And you trying to lie low to prevent possible revenge from Bennett Wyndham's men doesn't make it easier either."

  Naran nodded. "I know."

  The whole country had been in total chaos ever since the prime minister had been killed two-and-a-half weeks ago, but things were worst in the capital, which was only fifteen miles or so from the ranch. So far, they hadn't seen any trouble here, but that could change. Bray and his men were on the highest alert.

  Maz pointed at the muted TV in Naran’s room. "Anything new on the news?"

  "More riots. More empty rhetoric from the cabinet. Pretty scary images of soldiers marching in the streets. I'm glad I'm out of the city right now."

  "So am I. Joining the pack was the best decision I ever made."

  "Hearing that word still jolts me every time. It's such a foreign concept, the stuff of fairytales. It's hard to believe this is the reality."

  Maz grinned. "I'm sure someone would be willing to shift in front of you so you can see them in wolf form."

  Naran held up his hands. "No, thank you. First of all, I think it would scare the shit out of me. But more importantly, I feel it every time they shift, and the first few times were pleasant, but I've grown wary of it."

  It was an acknowledged side effect of shifting: a wave of power that everyone on the ranch felt and that made them horny as fuck. It was why Lidon and Palani had decided to limit shifting for now, since they understood not everyone appreciated said side effect. Naran was grateful for it, and so was his right hand.

  Maz rolled his eyes. "I don't blame you. I can't imagine riding it out by myself every time."

  It was quite the statement from the private and somewhat taciturn Maz, and Naran couldn't resist the temptation to tease him a little. "Anything you want to share? Like, for instance, a name?"

  Maz shook his head, laughing. "I know this pack has the crazy habit of getting involved in each other's sex lives, but to me it's still a personal thing. It's bad enough that Palani knows, but I’d like to keep everyone else out of it. And sadly, that includes you."

  "Damn," Naran said, though he had expected nothing else.

  Maz studied him for a few seconds, the smile on his face disappearing. "We'll have to work on getting you more active, though. You can't be in this bed all day. It's hell on your body…and on your spirit."

  It wasn't the first time they'd had this discussion, and Naran gave him the same answer he always did. "Give me the good stuff, and I'd be happy to try moving around. Until then, it hurts too damn much."

  "Now more than ever, the answer is no."

  That had Naran curious. "Why now more than ever? What has changed?" As soon as he asked the question, he realized the answer. “Demand is bigger than supply right now, so you need to keep those meds for people who really need them."

  Maz nodded. "Our supply chain has been severely impacted by the rioting, and we haven't received a new delivery in a week. We have no idea when we’ll be able to get new supplies, so Lucan has put us on strict restrictions. That does not include giving the good stuff, as you call it, to patients who don't need it."

  A wave of anger rolled through Naran. “Dammit, I do need it. You have no idea how much this hurts," he said, his tone icy. "Because if you could even feel it for a day, hell, for an hour, you'd prescribe me oxy or something similar right now."

  Maz showed no reaction, except a small tic in a muscle in his jaw. "You're right. I don't know what it feels like. But I do know the statistics on prescribing meds like that for people with chronic pain. You're exchanging one problem for another because we both know how addictive that stuff is. Once you start, you'll have a hell of a time detoxing when you don't need them anymore."

  Something inside Naran exploded, and he reached for the first thing he could put his hands on. He slammed his book against the wall, and it landed with a dull thud on the floor, its pages all crinkled now. "That's the whole point. I will always need them! I will never, ever have full use of my legs again. So what if I get addicted? Would that really be the worst thing under these circumstances? Wouldn’t you rather see me have some capacity for joy, for a bearable existence? Because I swear, if this is the rest of my life, this endless pain, this hopeless monotony of looking at the ceiling, then I'd rather end it right fucking now!"

  His chest was heaving with the effort it took to even speak, and tears of helpless frustration burned behind his eyes. But he would not cry, not in front of anyone, and especially not in front of another alpha. He had too much pride left for that, though it was rapidly dwindling, right along with his self-respect.

  Maz leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he made eye contact with Naran. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through because I can't. What I do know is this: despite every encouragement from us in the last month, you have chosen to look at the ceiling, as you put it. We want you to leave this room. We want you to do what you are still capable of. We want you to enjoy our company and we yours. Your isolation here, it's been your own choice all along."

  "I can't walk, dammit! How the fuck do you expect me to get anywhere if I can't walk?"

  Maz's posture remained unchanged. "With the wheelchair we've provided for you, and the help of anyone here on the ranch, because all of us are willing to help you."

  "I don't need your fucking help," Naran snarled.

  Maz rose from his chair, and his look was so full of compassion, shame rushed through Naran. "That's the whole problem, don’t you see? You do need help, only you're too damn proud to accept it."

  Maz’s words rolled around in Naran’s brain long after the man was gone. Shame barreled through him, making him sick to his stomach. He shouldn't have yelled at Maz. The man deserved nothing but thanks for doing the best he could under what were undeniably difficult circumstances.

  Even if he shouldn't have spoken the words, they were still true. He'd never been prone to depression, not once in his life, but this was what it had to feel like. This sense of utter hopelessness as soon as you opened your eyes, this feeling of wasting away, of not being useful in any way. The nagging voice in the back of his head that told him he was better than this, more than this, but lacking the energy to do something about it. He was tired, constantly exhausted, even when he spent every day in bed.

  He was no medical professional, but he didn't need to be to diagnose himself. He'd seen it enough in his brothers in arms after going through something bad or after they returned home. The anger, the nightmares, the depression, his inability to do anything about it, it all fit the picture.

  PTSD. That's what he had, no doubt about it. And he suspected Maz knew. If Naran could add one and one together, any doctor could, no matter their specialty. But knowing what he had and being able to do something about it were two completely different things.

  Of course, the sad reality was that having PTSD was actually the lesser of his problems. Because even if he could somehow get through that or learned to live with it, there was still the much bigger challenge of him being an invalid for the rest of his life. A cripple. Handicapped. God, the words alone made him want to tear his hair out.

  He'd seen others going through it. Fellow soldiers. A few of his friends. But after he'd left the service relatively unharmed, he'd never thought it was a reality he would have to face. How cruel could fate be that after ten years in the Army, six of which he'd spent overseas, he'd come out without a scratch only to get hurt on some fucking job.

  There was no denying some of it was his fault for making stupid choices, accepting the job for Bennett Wyndham first and foremost. God, he'd been such an idiot, thinking he could work for a crime boss like that and get out without consequences. He should've known better. It wasn't like the man's reputation had been a secret. But it had been easy money, or so he’d thought. Find the man’s son, cash a shitload of money. Well, he'd certainly paid the price for that stupidity. And so had others.

  His mind went to Lev, as it so often did. He hadn't seen him since they'd both arrived on the ranch, since their car ride, where Lev had lashed out at him, cutting him deep with his words of hate. It had been uncharacteristic, since Lev wasn't assertive by nature. Not that Naran hadn't deserved every word and then some.

  It was the one thing he'd lied about to Maz. Not so much lied, as not told him the entire truth. The clinic had a wheelchair he could use, and he had no doubt people would be willing to help him move around. But going outside his room, outside this relatively safe space, meant running into Lev. And he couldn't face that. Couldn't face him. Not after what he'd done to him.

  The shame he felt over how he had betrayed Lev was ten times stronger than any shame over how he'd spoken to Maz, and it always would be. Naran wasn't the type to have regrets, as he usually did the best he could under the circumstances, but god, how he regretted this. How he regretted seducing Lev, then breaking his heart. How he regretted losing the only thing, the one person in his life who had ever brought him happiness.

  No, he would stay in this room and protect himself. And protect Lev because that boy must never want to lay eyes on Naran ever again. He couldn't blame him. He deserved every ounce of anger Lev still felt, and Naran had no doubt it was quite a bit. Lev deserved a second chance here on the ranch, and Naran would stay out of his way to make that possible. It wouldn’t make up for what he did, but maybe it could pacify karma just a little. God knew he could use some good karma.

  4

  It was the first time since he'd arrived on the ranch that Lev went to bed tired. He hadn't realized what a month of doing nothing had done to his fitness level, but his exhaustion after walking the perimeter for a day told him he needed to work on that. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, proud to have accomplished something.

  It didn't stop the nightmares. Nothing ever did. He woke up at three in the morning, drenched in sweat, his body still clenched in the fear that had paralyzed him as he'd dreamed about being back in that same place. About hearing the screams, the begging, knowing that if he so much as said anything, that would be him.

  His stomach convulsed, and he swallowed back a dry heave, fighting to stay calm. Would this ever go away? Even after the man was dead, Bennett Wyndham still ruled, at least in Lev's dreams. When he was certain the nausea had disappeared, he got out of bed and walked to the bathroom on shaky legs. He splashed some water onto his face, patted himself dry with his towel.

  Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts. It was all he could do to get himself back to sleep. God, he hadn't had a full night’s sleep without waking up in terror for how long? Two months at least, probably closer to three. And the nightmares showed no sign of stopping.

  He lowered himself into bed again, closing his eyes. Happy thoughts. There was a challenge. It was hard to come up with anything that made him happy. He certainly didn't have happy memories of his childhood, that was for sure. He'd had some friends in high school, and they had shared their fun moments together, but nothing stood out to him.

  The sad reality was that the only happy moments he could think of were the ones he'd shared with Naran. He'd been so surprised and grateful that someone had liked him, let alone an alpha like Naran. It felt like no one had ever seen him until Naran. He'd told him everything about himself, had held nothing back. As fate would have it, that had turned out to be his downfall.

  It had all been a cruel game, a ploy by Naran to gain access to the building Lev had been guarding. Even his father, his siblings, or Big Bennett himself had never wounded him as deeply as Naran had, and Lev wasn't sure he'd ever get over it.

  What he did know was that he'd never forgive him. Naran might have had good motives, wanting to free Professor Melloni, but that didn't make his methods any less hurtful. It said a lot about Naran's character that he was capable of playing someone like that, of using Lev's misguided feelings and emotions against him. Still, as Lev drifted back to sleep, it was the memory of Naran holding him in bed, of sleeping with that strong body wrapped around him that made him relaxed enough to find peace again.

  The next morning, after making a quick breakfast for himself, he headed back outside. Bray had told him he was on the afternoon shift, meaning he would start at noon and work till nine. As long as he was being put to work, Lev really didn't care. He was too happy to finally feel useful again, and even more to do something he liked.

  Becoming a guard might have been by accident, as his father had gotten him the job after he’d dropped out of college, but he liked it. It had structure and routine, two things he appreciated. He'd become good at it, though he had certainly not proved that by falling asleep on the job the night Lidon and his men had attacked the building. Or by letting himself be seduced by Watkins and spill way too many details about his job.

  But that was in the past, he told himself, straightening his shoulders as he stepped out into the bleak sun. This was his chance to prove himself. His opportunity to build a new life for himself here. And he would not fuck things up again.

  He wandered around a bit, as always surprised when people were greeting him with what looked to be friendliness. They'd been apprehensive when he'd arrived, and considering who he'd worked for, he couldn't blame them. All he could hope for was an open mind so he could show them he had changed.

  Kean, Palani’s brother and the beta who was responsible for all the animals, struggled under the weight of two bales of hay he was dragging toward the stable. "Do you need a hand?" Lev asked.

  Kean shot him a look of gratitude. "Yes, please. I think I overestimated my own strength a little."

  Lev took one of the bales from him. "No problem. I'm off till noon anyway."

  He couldn't resist the hint of pride in his voice, and Kean must've picked up on that because he said, "How was your first day working with Bray?"

  Lev opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again when he realized who he was speaking to. Kean was one of Bray's mates, so not someone he should talk to about his new boss. "It was good," he decided on. "I'm happy to be working for Bray."

  Kean chuckled. "What a wonderfully politically correct answer. I know my alpha can be a royal pain in the ass, okay? He's not exactly easy-going, and I can imagine he's not the easiest boss to work for either. Add to that the fact that he's had his reservations about you, and that’s a lot of pressure you're under."

 

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