A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 309

FAYE

They had to sedate him.

That was the only way his body finally stopped fighting long enough for anyone to think clearly.

Dr. Adams moved closer preparing another injection while Roman’s body strained against itself. His muscles had locked so tightly that the tendons along his neck stood out sharply beneath flushed skin. Even unconscious, he resisted whatever storm was tearing through him.

“This will calm his nervous system,” Dr. Adams said as she administered the shot. “It won’t counter the Wolfsbane. It will only settle the reaction.”

The needle slid in smoothly.

Roman’s body jerked once more–hard–then gradually began to ease.

The change wasn’t immediate. His fingers twitched first, then loosened their grip on the sheets. The violent tremors reduced to small, involuntary shivers. His breathing, which had been sharp and erratic, deepened into something heavier. Slower.

Drugged.

His eyelids fluttered once before finally going still.

The sedative pulled him under.

But the fever remained.

Heat radiated from him in steady waves, almost visible in the still air of the room. Sweat dampened his hairline. His skin was flushed deep, his pulse still too fast beneath the surface.

Dr. Adams checked him thoroughly–pulse, pupils, temperature–then adjusted the blankets, keeping them light.

“The toxin has to run its course,” she said finally. “The sedative will keep him from harming himself. Monitor the fever. It may persist until the Wolfsbane clears his system.”

I nodded, barely hearing anything beyond the sound of Roman’s breathing.

Alexander stood on the other side of the bed. For a brief second, our eyes met. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, and right now, I didn’t care.

I looked away first.

When Dr. Adams was satisfied that Roman was stable, she left. Alexander remained a moment longer, his gaze steady on Roman lying motionless between us.

Then he left as well.

The door shut quietly behind him.

Silence settled into the room.

I exhaled slowly, unaware until then that I had been holding my breath.

Roman looked smaller now in sleep. Not physically diminished–just unguarded. His chest rose and fell in a deep, sedated rhythm. His lashes rested against flushed cheeks. A thin sheen of sweat caught the light along his temples.

I stepped closer to the bed and pressed my fingers lightly against his wrist.

His pulse was strong.

Too strong.

The fever wasn’t mild.

It burned through him.

Wolfsbane didn’t make wolves turn.

It attacked their systems.

Heightened senses became overloaded. Regeneration slowed or stalled. Every nerve seemed to flare under its influence.

And Roman’s body had reacted exactly like that.

The sedative kept him still, but I could feel the strain in the rhythm of his body. His heartbeat worked too hard. His breathing, though even, carried weight behind it.

The toxin would leave eventually.

But the fever could do damage before that.

I stood slowly, taking a deep breath.

If I did nothing, I would sit here for hours, watching him burn through strength he didn’t have.

If I intervened, I could ease the burden.

Not remove the Wolfsbane.

Not erase what had been done.

Just steady him. I had to do something.

I stepped closer to the bed and closed my eyes briefly.

I slowed my breathing deliberately.

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I opened my eyes.

His face had softened completely in sleep. Whatever tension had twisted his features earlier was gone for now. Only the fever marked him.

“I’m not going to push,” I murmured quietly, more to myself than to him. “I can do this.”

Slowly, carefully, I lifted my hand, and placed it on his chest.