The other Hunters were outside training. The wolves had been silent for weeks. There had been only one attack on a human shortly after the battle where Lazarus died. A small team of Hunters had gone to investigate, but really, without an active Huntress, all they could do was threaten and injure if they encountered one of the beasts.
The scholars were busy decoding the text as it continued to write itself. Without Kelly’s premonitions, they once again had no idea where to find the next Huntress. They had to rely on the text to show the Huntresses to them. And so far there had been nothing.
Cal’s heart hurt. There was no other way to describe it. It ached for Morgan in ways that he couldn’t understand. His body longed to touch her, to hear her voice. He felt like the walking dead, tied to a woman who still breathed, who was still connected to him, but whom he couldn’t have. For all of his precautions, all of the sacrifices he had made when he’d first met her, he’d lost her anyway, and Andrew had been right—the pain was truly unbearable. He had no desire to fight, no desire to live. The only thing that kept him from plunging a dagger into his heart was guilt and hope. Kelly had lost her Hunter because of Cal’s actions. Hitting Andrew with his sai had disabled him for the fight. Cal had done nothing to protect Andrew, instead he had been too focused on Morgan and the remorse was eating him alive.
And then there was the hope that had him checking his phone for the impossible. Each day that went by without Morgan breaking the bond gave Cal hope she would change her mind. She would find a way to contact him and tell him to come and get her.
But that was a pipe dream too. She wouldn’t ask him to get her. She didn’t want to come back to the mansion. And he didn’t blame her—she’d been right, after all. They had betrayed her, all of them, but Cal worst of all. Lance felt a lot of guilt—he hadn’t really said it, but Cal knew. Lance thought he should have tried harder to convince her to stay. But it wasn’t his fault, it was Cal’s. He’d made too many mistakes. Taken too many risks.
Cal took in a deep breath, blowing out the air as he stood and stretched. His body truly ached, from missing Morgan and from inaction. Sitting all day and most nights had him cramping all over, common sense said he should go for a run and give the punching bags good round of ass-kicking. But he couldn’t leave. He was tied to that bed just as surely as she was.
He turned away from the window and moved toward Kelly’s bed. She lay as she always did, peacefully sleeping as the machines worked her body to stay alive.
“I really wish I knew if you could hear me, Kelly.” He laid his hand on her arm. “I know I say this every day, but I am truly sorry for what I’ve done…trapping you in your mind because there’s no one here who can hear you.”
He lowered his head, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers down her arm and clasped her hand, squeezing as he always did.
And she squeezed back. Hard.
And then her heart monitor began to beep wildly.
Cal snapped his eyes open and shifted them to Kelly’s face only to reel back in surprise. Her eyes were open, staring at him, her brow furrowed as she seemed to fight against the tubes that filled her throat.
The hand he held fluttered as the other floated to her mouth and began to yank at the tubing, her eyes watering as she sputtered and choked.
With the initial shock ebbing, Cal jumped into action, screaming for help as he brushed Kelly’s fingers away and pulled the tape that secured the tubing to her lips. With her gagging, her chest heaving, he slowly began to pull. Inch after inch of the tubing slid from her throat until finally it was completely out.
And for one heart-wrenching moment, Kelly seemed to stop breathing altogether, her heart monitor screeching as her chest began to spasm.
He braced his hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “Kelly, oh fuck, Kelly, what have I done?”
And then she pulled in a deep breath of air on her own, released it and sucked up another. Her heart monitor calmed.
Lance came running into the room. “What the hell is going on in here… Holy shit!”
Cal turned to face Lance, the adrenaline of the past few moments pounding through him as he pointed a shaking finger in Kelly’s direction. “She fucking woke up.”
Lance stood wide-eyed, his mouth agape.
“Water,” Kelly croaked, her throat so unused to speaking that it sounded all wrong, like grating metal. Raw.
Cal jumped to snag his water bottle, opening the lid as Lance helped Kelly sit up. She smiled weakly after she took a small sip, moaning as her throat worked the liquid down.
She motioned for more and Cal helped her hold the bottle. She slowly gulped, sputtering a bit out when it became too much for her to handle.
Lance helped her to lie back, his gaze rising to meet Cal’s. “How can this be?”
Cal shook his head. He didn’t know. “You should go and get the healer.”
Lance nodded and moved to the door, pausing when Kelly, her voice cracked and strained, said, “Andrew?” She shifted her eyes from Cal to Lance.
Cal rubbed his hand across his jaw, not sure how much to tell Kelly, not knowing how fragile she might be.