Chapter 120

[ 1,430 words ]

He’s a sypher

120: 120.

He’s a sypher Aria

A haggling cough quickly turns into the straining wheezing sound someone makes when they’re simultaneously short of breath but also dry as a bone in the mouth.

“Damn Quinnie, are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, taking a swing of water.

The area is filled with warriors training and sparring

On the far side of, some males are getting fitted for some new style of blade Ransom is working on.

It’s his solution to making more weapons faster.

Elliot is sparring with Sigrid close by him.

He wasn’t too pleased when Ransom got up and declared he was good enough to get started

I thought he would fight to stop him, but whatever Ransom did had earned him victory in that argument.

“I really thought I was fine.

I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s kind of how sickness works.

They rarely announce themselves.”

Quinnie’s face scrunches up in a ‘don’t be a smart ass’ look, and then another fit of heaving coughs wracks her chest.

“Yeah, I,” cough, “think,” cough, “I’m gonna,” cough, cough.

She gets up, one hand covering her mouth.

“Go.”

“I’ll come check on you in a few,” I call out after her.

My wolf growls uneasily.

The first person who got sick a day ago.

No one thought anything of it.

But three hours later, four more pack members started to fall ill at a rate that had the healer saying there was a possibility of a stomach bug going around.

And it only seems like it’s getting worse.

I’m on cleaning duty today.

I’m in the west wing, so I head there and check in on pack members as I sweep, scrub, and disinfect our common spaces with a few other members on the housekeeping rotation.

After I’m done, I head to the infirmary to check on Quinnie, and I stop short.

Every bed has someone in it.

Pack members looked pale, coughing, moaning in pain, and flushed with what I assume to be fever.

“No visitors,” Thomas says, walking to the door with a mask covering his face.

“Sorry, Aria, but we think it’s contagious, and it has a high rate of spreading.”

“How’s Quinnie?”I ask, looking over his shoulder at her flushed face.

One of the healers wipes sweat from her forehead and shakes her head.

“She exhibits the same symptoms as the others.

It seems to be progressing.”

“What do you think it is?”

“We’re thinking of some kind of viral infection.

The first few patients we healed all had various symptoms, but it seemed to come from toxins in the body.”

“Toxins?

What does that mean?” I ask.

“We’re taking samples to analyze, but we’re past the point of healing people. There are simply too many cases to fully heal. We’ve been partially healing and doing traditional medicine for the remainder of recovery.”

If there are more people than the healers can handle, then this has officially changed from a small problem to a huge one.

“What happens if more people get sick?” I ask because I need to know what we’re dealing with to let Ronan and the other Alphas know.

“We’ll need to prioritize the most ill patients and use a combination of healing and traditional medicine.”

“Thank you, Thomas.

I’ll let you get back to your work.

Will you let Quinnie know I stopped by?”

“Of course,” he says before turning back to his post.

I head towards the Alpha’s temporary council room, the base all the Alphas have been using.

Another sick male walks past, heading to the infirmary.

Fear twists through me.

I move faster, reaching the council room in record time.

Ronan is sitting at the table, looking over a design that Ransom is talking him through.

Hazel stands on the side with Felix, waiting for whatever input they expect from him.

Ronan’s eyes find mine, taking me in in that way that makes me feel like he can see my thoughts.

“I like it.” He says to Ransom.

“How fast can we get a prototype?”

“I’d say give me a day or two with the metal and another 24 hours for Hazel to work the formula,” Ransom says.

“You got it,” Ronan says.

Hazel, Felix, and Ransom send me a quick greeting as they head back to the forge.

Promising to meet them for dinner, I head to Ronan.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just came back from the infirmary, and people are getting sick at a rate that is already too high for our healers to keep up with.”

His expression is grim.

“Have they figured out the cause?”

I shake my head.

“They are advising us to keep the sick separate from healthy people, but they are still working out the cause.”

“How many are sick now?”

“I counted twenty people when I went to visit Quinnie.

All of the beds are full.”

“Twenty?” he repeats.

“Thomas said they have to use a combination of healing and traditional medicine, but at this rate, there is going to be a touch-and-go period for most of the people infected.”

“We’re going to have to start quarantining people at this rate.”

“It might be better. We have too many children and elderly here to risk them getting sick.” I chew on my lip, thinking of how fast illness seems to spread in those two populations.

Ronan rubs my arm.

“I’ll call a meeting with the other Alphas, and we’ll figure out a system that works.”

A commotion near the door pulls our attention away.

One of the warriors rushes inside.

“The male has finally passed the checkpoint.”

Ronan bursts into action.

“I want Liam to take his team to the checkpoint. I’ll head out to meet with him. Get a message out to Alpha Kosta, her knows how to lock down the vulnerable, just in case.”

The enforcer nodded and rushed out to fulfill the orders.

Ronan is right behind him, heading for the front of the mountain.

“I’m coming too,” I say.

He looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

“I want you to stay inside.”

“And I want to stand by your side. I’m coming. I’m Luna of our pack, and I won’t hide when a potential threat appears.”

My wolf stands tall, daring Ronan to dismiss our strength.

He looks like he wants to argue.

His eyes flash back and forth, gold to deep umber.

After several seconds, he lets out a slow breath, reining in whatever protective instincts are riding him.

“Alright.”

We move toward the forest, purposely ignoring the enforcers hiding in the trees.

The sun is at its highest point, burning in all its glory above us, casting golden light through the branches.

Ronan stays close, his shoulders brushing mine with every step.

“I never expected a welcome party,” the older male says, sitting on a boulder.

A hood covers his face, but I can tell by the worn quality of his voice that he is older.

“Is it good enough to look at the fae of the man trespassing on my territory?” Ronan says.

“Oh,” the male says good-naturedly, “Forgive me. I’m not a fan of having sunlight in my eyes.”

He pulls down his face cover, and I’m greeted with thick, long grey locks and eyes the color of soot.

His face is weathered with laugh lines around his eyes and smile lines framing his thin lips.

It’s not the menacing picture I had expected, and I can tell by the confusion in the mate bond that Ronan didn’t expect that either.

“Why did you come here?” Ronan asks evenly.

“Because it was time we met,” he says, looking directly at me.

“I can see the embers in your eyes, girl. Wild, untrained. Tell me, what use are you in this war?”

My wolf bares her teeth at his insult.

“What’s it to you?”

He stands, the movement slow, controlled with the kinds of dexterity that give away the power beneath this loose-fitting clothing.

And when his eyes meet mine again, they are a live wire of power, dangerous and ancient.

Ronan growls a warning, stepping just in front of me in a protective gesture.

“Oh, I’m very invested.

Just like every shifter should be.

You are a spy, Aria, you have a responsibility, and if you’re weak, you’ll never be able to fulfill your purpose.”

“Don’t you dare take another step closer,” Ronan warns.

The older male’s eyes flick to Ronan, and my stomach drops.

“Could you protect him?” The older man says, his voice low, cautioning.

“Could you protect them?

My eyes widen as I realize he has sensed the enforcers from the very beginning.

I gasp as thick vines burst from the ground, and the sound of shouting amplifies all around.

Ronan is hanging in the air.

The vines lock his limbs tight, while another wraps tighter around his throat.

He’s a sypher, my wolf snarls.

The enforcers around us are being bound in a similar fashion.

“Let them go,” I warn, calling my flames into the palm of my hands.

He raises a brow at flames, looking at me like a naughty child.

“It’s going to take a lot more than a few party tricks to save them. You have ten minutes to prove to me you’re not a complete waste of space.”

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