Page 143 of Mates: Posy

"That you'd go get this Junie chick and bring her back."

"Why not?" I scowled.

"For all you know, she's already dead."

"Don't say that!" I barked. "Don't tempt fate. It would kill Lilah."

"Just being a realist." He threw up his hands. "What if there's no happy ending here, Julian?"

Plowing one hand through my hair, I let out a gusty breath. He was right. There were some things not even a king could do.

"I don't know, Ranger, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make one happen."

#

Ash

Tristan's mate looked to be on death's door.

Tubes stuck in her everywhere and an oxygen mask covered most of her face. She'd been changed into a hospital gown at some point, and her skin looked milk white against the blue fabric. She was still as a stone; not even her eyes moved under her purple-veined eyelids.

Tristan sat rocking in a hard, plastic chair, his hands clasped between his knees and his eyes fixed on her battered face. Our other betas were scattered around the room, their faces grim as they waited with him in quiet solidarity.

"How bad are her injuries?" Cole broke the silence.

"Severe concussion." Tristan listed them in a flat monotone. "Broken right wrist and left ankle. Four fractured ribs, one of which punctured her lung and caused it to collapse. Some damage to her kidneys."

"What are her odds?"

"Doc says fifty-fifty. Says she'll either wake up or she won't and—" The monotone faltered for a second, and he swallowed hard. "And I don't even know her name."

"Is Luke MacGregor somewhere nearby?" Crew asked quietly. "Maybe he could see if he knows her."

All their eyes fixed on us.

"He's here at the clinic, but he said he'd never known Alpha Halder to use witches before." I shoved my hands in my pockets. "We'll get him to come by, though. Won't hurt to ask him."

"Did you find anything on her or in her clothing?" Cole asked. "ID of any kind?"

Tristan frowned and shook his head.

"I haven't looked. The nurse put her stuff in that bag." He pointed to a green plastic drawstring bag in the corner. "There was no purse or anything, so I didn't think it was worth going through."

"Do you mind if we look?" Jay asked. "Just to make sure?"

When he shook his head again, Wyatt went over and picked it up.

"We'll be right back," he said.

Tristan nodded, already dismissing us as he went back to his silent vigil.

My brothers and I followed Wyatt down a couple of doors until we found an empty room. He dumped the bag on the bed and spread the items around. With more class than I thought him capable of, he quickly bundled up the bra and panties and stuffed them back in the bag without a single dirty comment.

There wasn't much to go through. A torn blouse. A pair of jean shorts that Jay grabbed to search the pockets. Socks. Canvas sneakers. A black drawstring pouch that held a deck of tarot cards, as I discovered when I looked.

Since there was nothing else, I examined the cards closer. The bag was nothing special, just soft velvet, but the cards were beautifully illustrated.

"She won't like that you touched those," Cole chided me.

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