Chapter 78 - Through the Glass
Liam’s fists slammed against the glass so hard, he was surprised it didn’t shatter beneath the weight of his panic. “Charlie, stop!” he shouted, his voice muffled by the thick barrier separating him from the unfolding horror. “Don’t do it! Please, baby, stop!”
But she couldn’t hear him. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Her entire focus was on Luther.
From behind the protective glass, Liam watched helplessly as his mate leaned over his twin's motionless body, her trembling fingers brushing across Luther’s fever-ravaged cheek. The expression on her face—pain, love, fear—seared itself into Liam’s soul. It was the kind of look someone gave when they were about to break, or already had.
“No, no, no,” Liam chanted, his palms pressed flat against the barrier. “Please, Goddess, not like this.”
His voice cracked on the last word, anguish strangling him as he watched Charlie’s wolf take control and sink her elongated fangs into Luther’s already ravaged neck. The sound of the machines inside the room instantly shifted—beeping wildly, the rapid escalation of noise a signal of approaching crisis.
He slapped his palms flat against the glass, eyes wide with helplessness as his brother’s vitals began to spike erratically, the sound blanked out every thought in Liam’s mind except one: he was losing his brother.
“No, no, no!” he shouted, turning his head toward the hallway. “Help! Somebody—get the doctor!”
Footsteps thundered down the corridor as Dr. Boyd and several nurses came skidding to a stop behind Liam, drawn by the warning sirens blaring from the room. The group stared through the glass in stunned silence, their eyes locked on the sight of Charlie curled protectively over Luther, her hand tenderly stroking his cheek. Blood ran from the bite wound at his neck, a fresh mark that glistened in the overhead light.
Their faces were etched with urgency and panic as they converged on the observation window, eyes wide as they took in the sight within the room.
“She’s marked him,” one of the nurses whispered, her voice trembling.
Dr. Boyd looked stunned. “Dear Goddess… she’s really done it.”
Then, impossibly, Luther’s eyes fluttered open.
A small, pained smile touched his lips as he looked at Charlie, and in the hush of the hallway, his whisper carried through the glass.
“Now... I am whole.”
Every person standing there froze, breath caught in their lungs as though afraid that even exhaling would shatter the fragile moment.
The world stopped.
Even from the other side of the glass, the words hit Liam like a thunderclap. His breath caught in his throat, and the firestorm of emotion building inside him froze. His legs felt like jelly, but he couldn’t look away—couldn’t move a muscle as he stared at the impossible sight of his brother conscious, aware, and even smiling through the weakness.
“I need a biohazard suit,” he snapped to a nurse before sprinting toward the containment prep room. Liam stood rooted to the spot, dazed and barely breathing, unable to look away as the doctor entered the sealed chamber and began to examine Luther. His stethoscope moved across his chest, his hands gentle but swift. The frown on his face deepened as he examined the monitor.
Liam blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself as everything swirled around him. His heart thudded violently in his chest, but it wasn’t fear now—it was something else. Something dangerous.
Hope.
The doors finally hissed open, and Liam forced himself to step away from the glass just long enough to intercept Dr. Boyd on his way out, a vial of Luther’s blood already in hand.
“Doctor,” Liam said, his voice hoarse, “what’s happening to him? What did she just do?”
Dr. Boyd’s face was pale, but his eyes were alight with something Liam hadn’t seen in weeks: possibility. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted, panting as though he’d run a mile. “But Luther’s vitals… they’re stabilizing. His heart rate is dropping to normal parameters, his oxygen levels are climbing—this is better than anything we’ve seen in days.”
Liam frowned. “You mean the mate mark did something? It’s helping?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Dr. Boyd replied cautiously, glancing down at the vial of blood in his hand. “It could be a coincidence. Or it could be that her mark triggered a physical or spiritual connection strong enough to push back the disease… even temporarily. I won’t know anything until I analyze this.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Liam asked, stepping closer, his voice dangerously low. “If this is just the last high before the end?”
Dr. Boyd didn’t flinch. “Then we’ll be prepared. But if I’m right…” he trailed off, then looked back through the glass at Luther. “If I’m right, she might’ve just saved him.”
Without waiting for another word, the doctor bolted down the hallway, already calling out for lab prep.
Liam stood in place, his mind spinning. He turned slowly and pressed a hand against the glass again, his eyes glued to the scene inside.
Charlie had climbed up onto the bed beside Luther. She curled into his side, gently, as if afraid that any sudden movement might snap the fragile string that tethered him to this world. Even though the infection had ravaged his body—his once-strong frame now gaunt, his skin an unhealthy shade, lesions and blisters trailing up his neck and down his arms—she didn’t pull away.
She touched him like he was still whole.
Liam swallowed hard. That was the kind of love people wrote stories about. That was the kind of love that burned down kingdoms.
Luther looked like a ghost of the Alpha he used to be. His skin, once bronzed and glowing with life, now looked like wax stretched too tightly over bone. Veins blackened by the infection pulsed beneath the surface, stark against the hollowness of his cheeks. The once-powerful muscles in his arms and chest had withered, leaving him gaunt and trembling.
But there was color in his cheeks again. Not much, but it was there. And though his breath rattled, it no longer sounded like a death rattle.
His hands curled into fists. It should have been him in there with her. He should have been strong enough to protect her from being taken, strong enough to save Luther before it ever came to this. But instead, all he’d done was watch—helpless—as the woman he loved had been ripped from them. And now he stood here again, an outsider, while she worked a miracle he hadn’t dared hope for.
Guilt tore through him like a serrated blade.
His gaze softened as he watched her rest her head against Luther’s shoulder. Despite the disease, despite the sweat and sickness that clung to him, she held him like he was still her mate. Because he was. And now, maybe he always would be.
Liam let out the breath he’d been holding, then leaned his forehead against the cool glass. His voice came out in a whisper this time. “Please let this be real. Let her save him. Let us have this second chance.”
For the first time in days, the silence around him didn’t feel quite as heavy.
There was still so much they didn’t know. About the disease, about how Charlie’s bond had affected it, about whether Luther would live to see another day—but something had shifted.
Charlie was back. Luther was alive.
And buried deep in the pit of Liam’s stomach, a single seed of hope had finally begun to grow.
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