“Okay.” My hands were trembling. I was terrified I would kill him. I hung on to the memory of how Buddie bounced back when I’d taken the bullet out of him. It would be just like that.

I felt around for the next arrow, knowing there were four of them. I again found the angle, trying to pull it out while doing the least damage I could. Another surge of blood followed, and I dipped my head, ready to vomit. I breathed deeply until I settled again.

“Good?” I asked as soon as I could speak.

“Keep going.”

I did the next two without asking him, just trying to get it over with. As soon as I got the last one out, I waited for him to shift, the way Buddie had, so he could heal.

He didn’t.

I cupped his cheek. “Kicks, they’re out. You need to shift.”

“I’m trying,” he said, sounding no better than he had.

Trying? Did that mean he couldn’t? I was afraid to ask. I didn’t want to worry him, or make him think I doubted he could. He was weak, was all. It was going to take a little longer, but he’d do it. He’d be okay. He’d get us out of this ditch and he’d be okay.

But as the minutes kept adding up, he kept lying there. He still didn’t shift, and he sure didn’t seem like he was getting better.

“Kicks?” I said. My voice cracked.

“I’m trying. I’m going to just rest for a few and then I’ll try again.”

I waited, letting him rest, hating that he had to. Buddie had shifted the second I got the bullet out of him. This was wrong. I arranged myself, trying to use my body as a pillow between Kicks and the cold, hard ground.

I ran my hand through his dark hair, giving him whatever comfort I could.

“Piper, we need to talk,” he said an hour later.

“No. Not now. You’re too weak. You need to rest until you can shift. Then we’ll talk after we get out of here.”

“Piper, I’m not going to heal. I thought it was just the arrows, but I think they had poison on them.”

His words slammed into my brain, making me acknowledge how he’d been looking weaker and weaker by the hour.

“I don’t know why you’re saying that, but it’s not true,” I replied. “You just have to eat and rest and you’re going to get better.” No. He was not dying. This was Kicks. He was too tough to die. He was a shifter and an alpha. He’d heal.

“You have to listen to me. I’m dying. They threw me in here to die, with you witnessing. She’s using me to torture you first, and then they’ll kill you. But you still have a chance.”

“You do too. Don’t talk like that. Don’t give up. It wasn’t poison. It was just too much at once, and you’ll come around.”

“Listen to me. I don’t have the strength to fight with you, and this is important,” he said, his voice too soft for my liking.

“What?” I said, afraid if I argued, he’d waste precious energy on it.

“They’ll come down to get me after I die. When an alpha dies, there are certain parameters that must be fulfilled within a certain time period or you’re courting catastrophe. Dirkin is too superstitious to let them burn my body with you.”

But they could kill him? I stayed silent, not wanting to make this worse.

“They’ll have someone come and try to collect my body from above,” he said. “You need to stop them from doing it so they have to come down with a ladder. It’s your only hope. You need to be strong and take your chance escaping as soon as that happens. Even if I’m still breathing, you need to do it, because I’m as good as dead.”

“Death is going to come,” I said. I didn’t know why she wasn’t here yet, but she’d come. She wouldn’t let me die, and hopefully it would be in time to save him.

“But she hasn’t,” he said.

“She will.”

He flailed a hand, trying to reach for mine. I grabbed it and held it firmly to my chest, hating how cold his normally warm skin was.