Page 153 of Her Wolf

“I literally did! Literally!”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it get to your head, you arrogant piece of—”

Finn groaned, and Lars’s voice cut off.

“Shit, Milo? How you feeling, buddy?” Cool hands brushed the top of his shoulder.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but he also couldn’t bear to let himself slip away again.

“The light,” he croaked. A soothingly dark shadow fell over him. He risked opening one eye to a slit. He took a while to focus on Lars’s concerned face, but when he did the man attempted a grin.

He might have succeeded, but the movement looked painful. Red splotches covered his normally pale skin, and his hair had been singed off in a few places.

Finn tried to speak, but his mouth was too parched. Lars twisted away, returning with a chip of ice that he gingerly slipped between Finn’s mouth.

“Better?” Lars asked.

He tried a nod, but his neck was stiff and resistant to movement.

“I should probably go check on the dog,” came Kane’s voice, the sound growing faint as the man moved away.

Finn focused with effort, and got a vague sense of a room with wooden walls. Everything was white; the paint, the furniture, the lace curtains billowing behind Lars.

He opened his mouth, but Lars pressed a finger to his lips. “You were the hardest hit, so you need to rest now, not speak.”

His brain was a strange, muddled place. If he tried to think back, all he found were flames and a guttural howling that made him want to puke.

Lars slipped another chip of ice between his lips. The man shifted where he’d perched on the edge of the bed Finn lay in, wincing at the movement.

“Look, it could have been worse, right?” Lars said, his eyes moving half-heartedly over Finn’s face. “I mean, you’ve still got all your limbs. There’s that.”

Could have been worse?

Finn tried to move his body, but it lay limp and unresponsive on the bed. He opened his mouth, but Lars widened his eyes in warning so he closed it again.

“You got a ton of painkillers in you. I’m shitting myself for you at the thought that they’re gonna wear off—” Lars glanced away, and then turned back “—but fuck it, you’re alive. At least, when you’re hurting, you’ll know that more than ever. Rather hurting than dead, amiright?”

Finn gazed up at Lars, becoming aware of a deep throbbing throughout his body. It was dull, muted almost, at the cusp of sensation.

He didn’t want the painkillers to wear off either.

“Lemme get you up to speed at least,” Lars said, although sounding reluctant to do so. “You’re alive.” He touched fingertips to his chest, grimaced, and then dropped his hand to the bed. “I’m alive, obviously. This isn’t a dream. You’re not dead and I’m not a dead person. Right, you keeping up?”

Finn managed a tiny nod. He would have smiled if he could.

“Awesome. Kane’s alive, obviously.” Lars moved his head from side. “It’s not like I was bitching at myself.” He narrowed his eyes. “That guy’s got a real attitude on him. Apparently, Zachary was holding a dead man switch all along. So, when you took a shot at Cora—” Lars broke off, leaning conspiratorially closer to Finn as he murmured “—that was just to get a better shot at Zachary, right? Because you hit her in the shoulder, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t miss.” Then he straightened again, waving as if to dismiss the question. “Anyway, the switch went off when you shot Cora. According to Kane. Zachary obviously thought you’d shot him, he stopped holding down the switch, we were all blown to kingdom come, yada yada…”

“Lars,” Finn croaked, grimacing how the word stung his throat.

Lars turned back from the distant stare he’d been sending out the window and gave a brief smile.

“Bailey almost died of exposure, seeing as Kane had knocked him out and tied him to a tree.” Lars glanced back at Finn, looking as if he was trying to scowl. “Told you that fucker’s got an attitude problem. But…he saved my life, so I guess I can’t be too mad at him. Bailey’s sworn vengeance on him, of course, but I think he’ll wait until we’re back in North America before trying anything.”

“Lars.” Another croak, this one hoarser than the last.

“Oh, right.” Lars fed him another ice chip before speaking again. “Yes, the dog’s alive. Real champ, that one. Cute, too, once you get over all the scars and stuff.”

Finn’s fingertips trembled, brushing against the back of Lars’s hand. When the man looked at him, Finn stared hard at him, willing him to utter the words he needed to hear.

Lars let out a long breath, and gave Finn a rueful smile. “She’s alive. Our Cora’s alive.”

Finn managed another stiff nod. His eyes fell closed, and he slipped away. The last thing he heard was Lars’s panicked voice.

“Milo? Milo!”

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