Tangled

Chapter 81

81 Ava: Wounded

Consciousness is fleeting and unreliable. The gentle vibration of the car is a cadence that lulls me into a state of semi–awareness, reality blurring with dreams. I alternate between understanding that I’m safe to fearing that Phoenix has me in his grasp. Sometimes, I can hear Alpha Renard’s cruel words. I even dream of

Sister Miriam.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the haze, piercing my muddled thoughts with startling clarity. It’s a voice I recognize, though I can’t quite place it. My eyelids flutter open, and I find myself enveloped in a pair of strong arms, cradled against a broad chest.

It feels wrong.

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As my vision adjusts, I make out the rugged features of Kellan Ashbourne, Lucas’s beta. His eyes are fixed on me, a mixture of concern and relief etched onto his

face.

“Ava,” he says, his voice gentle and soothing, like cool water after on a hot summer day. Ah, I’m poetic in my

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81 Ava: Wounded

delirium.

“You’re safe now. We’re taking you to Westwood

territory.”

I blink slowly, trying to make sense of his words. The events of the night are a jumbled mess in my mind. “Where are we?”

“In a small city. We’re still on Blackwood territory, and you aren’t safe here. Just bear with me for a moment, okay? You’re badly injured, did you know that?”

I nod. Yes, I hurt. It hurts everywhere. Who wouldn’t know when their body hurts? Oh. Maybe paraplegics.

“Yes. I can move my body,” I say, even as I lay like a limp

fish in his arms.

I can, though… I think.

Shit, everything’s hard to keep straight in my mind. I

wish Selene was here.

Or Lucas.

Where’s Lucas?

Wasn’t he here?

seems to sense my confusion.

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81 Ava: Wounded

back soon. For now, we need to

time, I can feel the movement. I must not have nodded before, when I thought

little

SUV from before. This vehicle is different, its interior stripped

in the back.

How odd.

me onto a makeshift bed

be, his movements gentle yet purposeful. I wince as the motion aggravates my injuries.

fucking

definitely not

his hand lingering on my arm for a moment. “You’ve been through

to understand what’s happening, but the words refuse to form on my

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3/8

Ava:

my eyelids

exhaustion.

climbs in

pack healer.

pain and give you a little rest. Can

understand me?”

I murmur, the word

to stabilize your injuries. You’ve

There’s a lot of movement around

and prodding. “Big pinch,” she warns,

relief, even as she continues doing something to

feels like my head’s about to detach to fly high into the sky, like a balloon that’s escaped.

***

and the distinct scent of

13:14

81 Ava Wounded.

my nose

the ceiling. A few dents, and a

full of liquid hanging from an IV pole. There’s an

colors.

SpO2 99%.

RR 12.

PR bpm 61.

109/63.

a second for me to

online after a short time.

respiratory rate, heart rate, blood pressure.

in a

blink away my grogginess, I realize it isn’t the same. I’m in a smaller room, on

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81 Ava: Wounded

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