The War Here

The next morning, I made my way back to the ICU. Trey’s vitals had stabilized overnight, but protocol required a few more neurological checks before he could be moved. I’d been avoiding this moment, but after last night with Will, it felt overdue.

Trey was sitting up in bed, flipping through channels on the tiny mounted TV. He looked better—pale, but alert.

“Morning, Doc,” he said with a faint smile as I entered.

I didn’t return it. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” he said, trying to sit straighter. “The nurses said you adjusted the meds. Thanks.”

I glanced at the monitor, then back at him. “Trey, we need to talk.”

His smile faltered. “Yeah. I figured.”

I pulled the chair closer to his bedside and sat down, folding my arms.

“I saved your life. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you did to mine.”

He looked away, tension creeping into his shoulders.

“You, Will, and the others—you didn’t just tease me. You humiliated me. You made me feel like a ghost in my own home. Like I didn’t belong. Like I wasn’t enough.”

“Remi…” he started, but I cut him off.

“I spent years pretending it didn’t matter. That your words didn’t follow me into every class, every shift, every lonely night. But they did. You made sure I always knew I wasn’t ‘real pack.’ That I didn’t deserve to stand beside you because I couldn’t shift.”

He looked up at me, guilt flooding his features. “We were kids. I didn’t understand how bad it was—”

“No,” I snapped. “You understood enough to laugh when I cried. To turn your back when others joined in. You chose cruelty, Trey. And Will let you. Every time.”

He exhaled slowly, the weight of truth settling in.

“I thought leaving for Chicago would dull it. That I could forget. But you left scars deeper than any bullet. And now you’re here, needing help, needing me—and I gave it. Because I’m not who I was back then.”

I stood, heart pounding. “But don’t confuse my compassion for forgiveness. You don’t get to walk away clean just because I kept you alive.”

Trey nodded slowly. “You’re right. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just… I regret it. All of it.”

“Good,” I said, grabbing my tablet. “Let that regret turn into something useful. Be better. Because next time, you might not be the one bleeding.”

The door burst open.

I turned, bracing for another confrontation—only to freeze.

Rae limped through the threshold, blood running down her leg, her hand clutched to her side. Del leaned against her shoulder, barely conscious, her face pale and streaked with dirt. Aspen—Rae’s red-merle Australian Shepherd—was right beside them, tense and alert, her eyes flicking between us like she was ready to rip into anyone who moved wrong.

“Remi,” Rae gasped, “I tracked your phone to here.”

I rushed forward, catching Del under the arms and helping ease her onto the nearest cot. Blood soaked her side—too much.

Rae dropped into the chair nearby, teeth gritted. “It was a trap. The hack… it was bait. Soon as I blocked the signal, wolves hit my swamp. My swamp, Remi. Only you and Del knew about it. That means someone sold us out.”

I grabbed the emergency kit off the wall, tearing into gauze and alcohol before kneeling in front of Rae’s injured leg.

“I’ve got you,” I said quickly, already working on the wound. “Stay still.”

Aspen let out a low whine and pressed close to Rae’s knee, nose twitching anxiously as I wrapped her thigh.

“I barely got Del out,” Rae went on, voice shaking. “She fought him—Jason. He was waiting for us. Waiting, like he knew exactly where we’d be.”

The air shifted behind me, and I turned to see Will standing in the doorway.

He froze at the sight: blood, bandages, Del unconscious, Rae bleeding, and me on the floor with my sleeves soaked in red.

His expression turned to stone.

“What happened?” he asked, voice hard and tight.

I didn’t look up. “What do you think? The war’s not coming, Will. It’s here.”