Chapter 212

Arthur’s Pov

My chest is on fire. The hole in it has split open at some point during that pathetic fight with that weak gamma. The nerve. He thought he could take down his alpha? The thought of it would make me laugh if it didn’t mean chest would move.

I notice Almara peaking at me, giving me a sideways glance, and I know it’s from a place of concern so I try my best not to give her any reason to worry. When she isn’t looking at me, I’m peering down at my chest making sure no fresh blood is seeping through my clothes.

Up until an hour ago, there wasn’t any. We’ve walked well into the night and when we finally decide to rest and set up camp, I try not to let it show how weary I feel.

Only when I think about Grace am I revitalized and ready to keep moving, mentally at least. Physically, I’ve ignored my body’s whispers for so long that now my body is screaming at me to stop. Everything aches.

I know the nurses extracted all the poison from my body, at least the majority of it that would have killed me, but I know some of it lingers. I can feel that something isn’t right in my blood.

I pull my shirt over my head. The fabric sticks to my open wound and the cotton pulls at my chest hairs that are sticky with sweat and blood.

“Arthur!” Almara cries. Shoot. I forgot she might be looking. What a dirty dog. Even in all my exhaustion, and mental and physical pain, can she still make my mind wander to intimate places.

“It’s fine,” I tell her and hurry to put on a fresh long-sleeved shirt to keep me warm through the night. “I’m fine”

“Arthur, I know fine and that’s not fine. Please let me help you,” I have no fight left in me so I lay back on the ground and Almara is instantly all over me, though not in the way I wish. She works gently and quickly pulling at items from her first aid kit.

Whatever she pours on me stings like a bit- “What is that?”

“Alcohol. It’ll sterilize and dry up the wound,”

I lay my head back on the ground and let her finish torturing, I mean helping me. When she’s done, I pull her down next to me. She curls up in my arms and for a moment we lay in stillness and silence, breathing in each other's scent and looking up at the stars.

“You know I have faith in us. We’re going to get her back,”

“I know,” Almara says, already sounding like she’s drifting to sleep. I rest my chin on top of her head.

“I made you and Grace a promise that I would keep you safe and I intend to keep that promise.”

“You’ve always been a man of your word, Arthur Covington,” Almara yawns. The way she says my name soothes me like a lullaby.

We’re both nodding off when my stupid phone blares.

“Ugh, what now?” I ask, knowing it can be nothing good. I grab my phone and don’t bother checking the caller ID. “What is it?” I try to keep my voice from sounding agitated, the caller could be one of my army men and they deserve respect from their leader if I also want it.

“Arthur,”

“Dad?” I say, though I already know it’s him based on the voice. Almara leans up on her elbows looking at me with her beautiful brown eyes. “Why are you calling so late, what’s wrong?”

My dad lets out a sigh. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen,”

“Seen what?” I ask my voice hard.

“A civil war is taking shape. The city streets are lined with protestors wanting you and Almara to cave to the demands of the Vampire Council,” I grimace at the visual of throngs of angry wolves wanting nothing more than to see the Hurricane Pack served to the Vampires. Roman keeps going.

“Many are saying that nothing good has come about since Bess’s death and an uproar is likely to happen,” This keeps getting worse.

“You said it was a civil war. Is there another side? Or is it just the Hurricane Pack versus the rest?” Almara puts her hand on my arm, her cooling touch soothes the heat of my anger.

“No, that’s the good news if you can believe it. There’s another side that are advocating for continued allyship with the Hurricane Pack saying we need to remember who the common enemy is. Many are humanizing you and Almara saying hey feel for you and the situation you’re in with Grace,”

I close my eyes and give a silent thanks for the sane followers we do have. “Many of them are supporters of the Art School,” Roman says. I smile at that. The one true good and honest thing I’ve done, besides marrying Almara.

“So, what are you suggesting?” I ask.

“While the major war is on hold right now, you need to assemble your army and manage this civil war that’s about to break loose. Wolves are already fighting in the streets.” I shake my head.

“We’re on our way getting Grace, we believe the vampires already have her. I can’t tend to this civil war while she may be in their hands,”

“Well, it sounds like you’re going to need help getting her anyways,” Roman says and I piece together what he’s telling me like a puzzle. If we can band together the loyal followers as well as the recruits I’ve been fighting along with, maybe we stand a better chance at getting Grace.

Maybe the Hurricane Pack and redeem themselves in a way that honors Bess and would make her proud. “I’ll call a team together,” I say to Roman. With that we hang up.

“What’s going on?” Almara asks, fully awake now.

“We’re going to get some help in finding Grace,” I tell her. I leave out the part about the civil war. She can go to sleep with some good news and maybe have sweet dreams.