Chapter 95 — Desperation's Edge
We burst into the ruined remnants of the living room where Dr. Boyd had set up his temporary work station after his lab was destroyed. Glass crunched under our feet. The air was thick with the heavy, metallic scent of blood and the acrid bite of chemicals spilled in the chaos.
My arms tightened protectively around the feverish little girl as Dr. Boyd spun to face us, his face pale and drawn from exhaustion. The second his eyes fell on the girl cradled against my chest, a spark of horror and guilt flickered across his features.
"Save her," I barked, my voice raw and trembling with desperation.
He blinked at me, taking a tentative step forward. "Charlie... I—"
"No!" I cut him off, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl that rumbled from deep within my chest. My wolf surged toward the surface, so close to taking control that my vision swam and blurred around the edges.
I strode forward, the girl limp in my arms, the coat Luther had thrown over me sliding off my shoulders in the rush of fury. I was shaking with rage, with grief, with fear.
"I am sick of watching wolves DIE!" I snarled. "You're so damn close to the cure! You said it yourself! If you don't save her—" my voice cracked on the word, but I forced it out, sharp and lethal, "—then I *will* take matters into my own hands."
The threat hung heavy in the room, reverberating with the power of an Alpha's Luna at her breaking point.
Dr. Boyd paled even further, his trembling hands rising instinctively to his neck. He bared it to me—offering the ancient, instinctive sign of submission to a wolf stronger, more desperate, more dangerous than him.
For a moment, time froze.
The little girl whimpered against my chest, and the sound shattered my rage into jagged pieces.
I fell to my knees beside the shattered remains of an old couch, gasping for breath, guilt crashing into me so hard I thought it might break me. "I can't save them all," I whispered, the admission tasting like ash in my mouth. "But *you*—" I pointed a shaking finger at Dr. Boyd, "—you damn well better save *her.*"
He swallowed thickly and nodded, already rushing forward to gather the girl from my arms with surprising gentleness.
I sat there, trembling, fighting the war within myself.
Tired of death.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of *failing.*
Liam knelt beside me, his hands stroking soothing circles into my back. Luther stood over us, a silent sentinel, his dark eyes burning with both anger and protectiveness.
"You can’t," Liam said softly, his voice so careful, so full of love. "Charlie, you can’t save everyone. You *know* what happens if you try."
I shook my head violently. "She’s just a child!" I sobbed. "I could have saved others. Maybe if I had—"
"No," Luther rumbled, kneeling on my other side. His massive hand cupped the side of my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. "If you give your immunity to too many... you’ll be the one who needs saving. You’ll be the one who—" his voice broke, rare and raw, "—who we lose."
I clutched at them both, sobbing silently, torn apart by grief and frustration.
The anger built again like a thunderstorm inside me, crackling and fierce. I shoved away from them with a frustrated growl and stood, kicking over the broken chair nearby.
Wood splintered and clattered against the wall. Another chair followed. Another.
I raged, throwing what I could, needing to *do something* instead of standing by helplessly.
"Charlie," Liam said again, softly, soothingly.
"Let her," Luther murmured, his voice rough. "She needs this."
Finally, exhausted, I collapsed against the wall, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. Tears blurred my vision. I wiped them away angrily.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Boyd darting from the room, the girl cradled in his arms. My instincts screamed at me not to lose sight of her.
I pushed off the wall and staggered after him, ignoring the worried calls from Liam and Luther behind me. I followed Dr. Boyd down the hallways—winding, battered pathways that had once been part of a safe, thriving home and now looked like the ruins of a war zone.
He burst into the small med-room we had set up after the lab’s destruction, laying the girl on a clean table. Already, her tiny chest heaved with ragged, shallow breaths.
"Come on, come on," Dr. Boyd muttered frantically, pulling out a syringe from a cooler nearby.
"What is that?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
He didn’t look up as he prepped the injection. "It’s the latest version of the serum. It’s not perfect—" his hands shook as he filled the syringe, "—but it’ll slow the disease enough to give us more time."
Time.
That’s all we ever bought. More time... but never enough.
"Please," I whispered to the unconscious girl. "Hold on. Just a little longer."
Dr. Boyd carefully injected the serum into her small, fragile arm.
Seconds ticked by like hours. The girl’s breathing hitched, then evened out slightly, still ragged but... better.
Alive.
The doctor slumped into a nearby chair, burying his face in his hands.
I sagged against the doorframe, my knees nearly buckling. Relief, guilt, grief—it all hit me at once, stealing my strength. Behind me, I heard the soft footfalls of Liam and Luther entering the room.
"She’s stabilized," Dr. Boyd croaked, lifting his head at last. His eyes were red and tired but shining with hope. "It’s working."
A sob escaped me. Liam pulled me into his arms. Luther wrapped himself around both of us.
We stood there for a long moment, silent, taking strength from each other.
Finally, Dr. Boyd looked up, his expression firm. "I need to finish it. The cure. I’m close—*so close*—but I need samples from the stabilized subjects to perfect it."
Meaning he needed samples from the girl. From Luther. From me.
"You'll have them," Liam said, his voice brooking no argument. I nodded, still trembling but determined.
We wouldn’t fail now. We couldn’t afford to.
Not when hope was finally within reach. Not when lives still hung in the balance.
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