POV: Harlow Love
Dawn broke grey and brutal. I was a statue of ice and pain.
"Get up."
Kaden stood there in a tailored suit. He looked at me with a flicker of guilt that he quickly buried under annoyance.
I tried to move. My leg was a stiff log of agony. The wound had clotted, but the skin around it was angry and red.
"We have errands," he said. "Brittaney needs a dress for the Gala."
"I can't walk," I rasped.
He grabbed my arm, hauling me up. The Mate spark zapped us both. He flinched, then gripped harder.
"You will walk. Stand."
The Command forced my legs to work against the pain.
The mall was a blur of lights and noise. I was a ghost trailing behind them, my limp pronounced, sweat slicking my back despite the air conditioning. My fever was spiking.
Brittaney bought everything she touched. She piled boxes into my arms until my muscles spasmed.
"Careful, Harlow," she smirked. "Don't drop the Italian leather."
By the time we returned to the villa, I was seeing double.
"Laundry room," Brittaney ordered, pointing to a pile of silk. "Hand wash. Now."
I stumbled down to the basement. The cold water in the basin felt like ice against my fever-hot skin. I dipped a red dress into the water. The room tilted. The concrete floor rushed up to meet me.
I woke up to the beep of monitors. The pack hospital.
"He brought you in," the nurse whispered, adjusting my IV. "You were burning up. Infection."
Before I could feel hope, the door banged open.
Kaden marched in. He wasn't holding flowers. He was holding a silver revolver.
He pressed the barrel to my forehead. The metal was cool against my feverish skin.
"What did you use?" he hissed.
"Kaden?"
"Wolfsbane! Brittaney put on the dress you washed. She's in the ICU. You poisoned her!"
"No!" I sobbed. "I didn't!"
"Liar. You're useless, and now you're a murderer."
He pulled the hammer back. Click.
