Chapter 126

“What happened to you?” I ask on reflex, my own troubles pushed aside for now.

There are dark, heavy bags under Neil’s eyes and his cheeks are harrow. He looks downright haggard, like he’s the one with a sickness, but he doesn’t seem to have any congestion. Maybe he was beat up or something, but I couldn’t imagine him losing a fight.

Unless he was in a position where he wouldn’t fight back.

Like against his father.

“Have you been to see your dad?” I ask.

“Not recently,” he says, and I’m confused again. “I’m not hurt. I’m not sick or anything. I’m just tired.”

I believe that. He looks exhausted. But I’m not so sure that’s all this is. It seems like more.

“I’m not here to get you to worry over me,” Neil says. “We need to talk about Archer and Beau.”

“No, we don’t.” I cross my arms. “I obviously don’t mean anything to them, and I was an idiot to forget my true place here. I’m just some bitch nanny, right?”

“Who called you that?” Neil asks, voice dipping into a growl for a minute.

Fucking protective Alpha werewolves.

Or is this a show too? I’m so confused. My feelings are a jumbled mess.

I don’t even want to look at Neil anymore, so I turn from him and walk into the room. “No one called me that lately. But I bet you all still think it. Don’t lie. Being nice to me is some kind of game you play. Bet you share highlights when I’m not around.”

It hurts to think about. Hurts worse to say it out loud. “Do you compare notes? See who could get me to cum the fastest?”

“No,” Neil growls. “Stop talking like that.”

He’s using an Alpha command. My mouth snaps closed. I could fight it, probably, if I wanted to. But I’ve always been a sucker for Neil’s bossy voice.

“Our… private moments were not a game,” Neil says. “I do not share you.” He clears his throat. “Did. I did not share you.”

At his error, I turn to look at him. He’s rubbing a hand over his face. Gods, he looks terrible. Maybe I should bring a chair over for him to sit down.

“Archer and Beau are impulsive,” Neil says. “They act before they think things through. They’ve always done that. I imagine you’ve caught onto that by now.”

I have. Archer’s first instinct is usually anger. He sometimes softens, after. Or he doubles down to save his pride.

Beau, I know less well, but I’m getting there. He’s flirty and fun, but he’s quick with a sharp insult. I wonder if he wears his wit like a shield. Maybe he’s protecting himself.

I don’t know. He doesn’t need to protect himself from me.

Or maybe he does. If the brothers actually are developing soft spots for me, it could mean trouble for them with their father. Like what happened to Neil.

Whatever happened to Neil.

“Maybe they wanted trouble for you in the beginning. We all thought it might be a little funny to watch you sweat, even me,” he says.

I remember those days vividly. It doesn’t really hurt anymore, but… only because I thought we were past that point. Now I’m not as sure. Maybe I should keep being hurt. Or bitter.

“But it’s not that way anymore, Chloe,” Neil says. He sounds earnest, but he always does. Maybe it’s not as real as I thought.

“Forgive me if I think that’s bullshit,” I say. “Beau doesn’t even use my name. He calls me, ‘Nanny.’” I was starting to not mind so much. It was beginning to sound like a pet name said with affection. What I fool I was. “And Archer is always hot and cold with me. When I’m around him, I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash.”

Neil lowers his head. “Feelings are difficult for us.” His frown deepens. “Even for me.” He sighs. “Maybe especially for me. We weren’t exactly raised to express ourselves.”

“So learn,” I say. “It’s not hard to care about someone.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But it is difficult to… admit it.” He looks up again and our eyes meet. There’s a weight in his gaze that wasn’t there before. He’s trying to tell me something just by looking at me. Maybe I can understand, maybe I can’t. But I won’t even surmise right now, not after the pain I’ve felt tonight.

“You have to say it,” I said. “I’m done making guesses and assumptions. I won’t let you four keep hurting me like this.”

I had to take a stand or my own battered heart wouldn’t make it.

I only had one month left here. If he couldn’t say aloud how he felt about me, if none of them could, then I would avoid them all like the plague. I’d stick to Mia and my room and not say any more than was necessary to them.

It would be difficult, I did like the guys a lot of the time. But I would do whatever I needed to do to survive.

So I wait for Neil to say the words or leave. I’m determined for only one or the other to happen.

“Chloe,” Neil says. He swallows hard, then straightens. Determination sparks in his eyes. “You must know that I – ah!”

Suddenly, he cries sharply in pain. He clutches his shoulder, right over where I remember that sliced wound was.

“Neil!” I dart forward, ready to catch him. He’s barely holding himself together.

Through clenched teeth, he’s groaning hard. His face is twisted up in agony.

Gods, how much pain is he in?

Then, he crumples. I try to hold him up, but he’s too heavy. I at least slow his fall, though we both wind up on our knees on the hard floor.

His groans turn to growls. He’s fighting the pain. His fingers are digging into the meat of his shoulder so deeply, blood red is starting to stain his shirt under his hands.

I grab his wrist and pull it back. “Let me see. Maybe I can help.”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Leave. Me.”

Like hell I’m doing that! Not to mention this is my room.

“Don’t be difficult,” I say. “Just let me see what we are dealing with.”

He must be weakening from the pain, because when I go to pry his hand away from where he’s hurting himself, he can’t put up much of a fight. He whimpers as I pull his hand away. I put it on my thigh. If he needs to grip something, I can take it.

His hand curls around my leg but he doesn’t squeeze enough to hurt.

Slowly, I peel back his shirt away from the wound. I remember it as a slice. With his werewolf healing abilities, it should be almost gone by now.

But when I see it, it looks even worse. It’s gotten black at the center, with deep purple tendrils crisscrossing outwards along the skin like a spider web of sickness.

It looks angry and painful. It shouldn’t be possible. He should be healing.

I look at him for answers, only to find him looking helplessly back at me.

I’ve never seen him quite so lost before. It steals my breath away.

He’s looking at me like he wants to take in the sight of me before he dies.

Is he dying?

“Neil…”

“Don’t. Ask. Me,” he says. Each word is labored. His breathing his harsh.

I panic.