Rook worked in silence, his hands moving efficiently as he dressed Ronan's wounds. His jaw was tight, and the sharp angles of his face were even sharper under the dim lighting. The atmosphere was very weird making Ronan shift uncomfortably.
He debated whether he should say something. Rook clearly wasn't in a good mood, and Ronan wasn't exactly eager to poke the bear, but the silence was getting unbearable.
After a while, he cleared his throat. "Uh... is something bothering you?"
Rook paused. His fingers, which had been wrapping the bandage around Ronan's abdomen, stilled mid-motion. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze locking onto Ronan's with an icy sharpness that sent a chill down his spine
"What could possibly bother me," Rook said, his voice low and biting, "apart from the fact that you are so fucking careless?"
Ronan swallowed hard.
Well. That answered that.
Rook's glare didn't waver as he resumed dressing the wound, his movements slightly rougher than before. Ronan winced but didn't dare complain. He knew better than to test Rook when he was like this.
"You should take this more seriously," Rook muttered after a moment, not looking up. "You act like nothing can touch you, but you're not invincible, Ronan."
Ronan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know that."
"Do you?" Rook shot him a side glance, his eyes still burning with frustration. "Because it sure as hell doesn't seem like it."
Ronan opened his mouth to argue but shut it again. There was no point.
The rest of the bandaging process went by in silence. When Rook finally finished, he stood up and exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired..
Ronan sighed. "Look, I.."
"Get some rest," Rook interrupted, already turning toward the door. "I'll check on you in the morning."
And with that, he was gone, leaving Ronan sitting there, staring after him with a mixture of guilt and confusion.
.
.
The next morning, Ronan found himself in the training grounds, stretching lazily while the rest of the pack warriors were already deep into their drills. The air smelled like sweat, and damp earth, a familiar combination that should have woken him up. But instead, he felt sluggish, his body still sore from the previous day's events.
Maybe he should've taken Rook's advice and used his injury as an excuse to sit this one out. Then again, that would've just given Rook more ammo to call him reckless again.
Speaking of which, where the hell was he?
"You look like you got run over," a voice drawled behind him.
Ronan turned to see Luca, one of the older warriors, smirking at him. The guy had a build like a brick wall and a personality that was a weird mix of big-brotherly and an absolute menace.
"Wow, thanks. Just the motivation I needed," Ronan muttered, cracking his neck. "Where's Rook?"
Luca shrugged. "No clue. Thought he'd be here hovering over you like an angry babysitter."
Ronan rolled his eyes. "He's not that bad."
Luca gave him a look. "Right. And I'm a delicate flower."
Before Ronan could come up with a smart reply, a sharp whistle rang through the air, cutting through the scattered conversations. His father, stood at the front, arms crossed, looking every bit as strict and unmovable as ever.
"Enough chatter," his father said, voice carrying easily. "Pair up. We're starting with hand-to-hand today."
Ronan exhaled. Of course. Just his luck.
He ended up paired with Luca, who grinned like he'd just won the lottery. "Try not to embarrass yourself, future Alpha."
"Oh, you wish," Ronan shot back.
They circled each other, waiting for the signal. The moment the spar began, Luca lunged, and Ronan barely managed to sidestep in time. His abdomen protested the sudden movement, but he ignored it, focusing instead on dodging another strike.
His mind should've been on the fight. On strategy. But instead, thoughts from the night before lingered in his head
Pain exploded across his jaw as Luca's fist connected, knocking him right out of his thoughts.
Ronan staggered back, blinking stars from his vision. "Ow."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "Did you just zone out?"
"Uh. No?"
Luca smirked. "You totally did. Man, Rook's gonna kill you when he finds out."
Ronan groaned, rubbing his jaw. Great. Just what he needed, another lecture from his best friend. But as he got back into position, something in his gut twisted.
.
.
Ronan was about to reply when he suddenly started seeing in twos. The world tilted sharply, the training ground blurring into indistinct shapes and colors. His body felt strangely heavy, his legs giving out beneath him. Distantly, he heard someone shout his name, but it was muffled, like he was underwater.
Then, darkness.
When he finally came to, he saw a familiar face hovering above him. He tried attempting to push himself up, but Rook immediately pressed a hand against his chest to keep him down. "Stay put, idiot."
Around them, murmurs and shuffling footsteps indicated that the rest of the pack was still present, watching. His father was likely somewhere nearby, but Ronan couldn't bring himself to look. He felt like absolute garbage, his body heavy and weak, like he'd just run full speed into a brick wall.
"I'm fine," he muttered, but even to his own ears, he didn't sound convincing.
Rook's eyes darkened, his patience clearly thinning. "Bullshit. You just collapsed in the middle of training like a sack of potatoes. That's not 'fine.'"
Ronan sighed, leaning his head back against the dirt. "I don't know what happened. One second I was fighting Luca, and the next,"
"You blacked out." Rook finished for him, scowling. "Great. Fantastic. And let me guess, you didn't think to mention that you were feeling off before now?"
Ronan grimaced. "Didn't really seem important."
Rook exhaled sharply through his nose, visibly restraining himself from throttling Ronan in front of the entire pack. Instead, he turned his attention to someone else. "Get the healer. Now."
Someone scrambled away, and Ronan sighed. "Dramatic much?"
Rook's glare could've melted steel. "Oh, shut up before I knock you out again."
As much as Ronan wanted to argue, he couldn't ignore the genuine worry etched into Rook's features. And, if he was being honest with himself, he felt worse than he was letting on.
.
Ronan barely had time to relax before a violent shudder ran through his body. A sharp pain, like a hot knife, twisted deep in his gut. He managed to roll onto his side before his stomach lurched. A thick, metallic taste flooded his mouth, and then
He coughed, hard, and dark crimson splattered onto the ground in front of him.
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then chaos erupted around him.
"Shit, Ronan!" Rook was the first to move, grabbing his shoulders as another harsh cough wracked his body, sending more blood spilling onto the dirt. His fingers dug into Ronan's arms, his grip tight, steadying. "Breathe, Princess. Breathe."
Ronan wheezed, his body trembling as his vision blurred. He could hear voices, his father barking orders, someone else running for the healer, but everything felt distant, muffled, like he was hearing it from underwater.
"Okay, nope, not liking this," Rook muttered, shifting to press a firm hand against Ronan's back, supporting him as another coughing fit stole his breath. "You better not pass out again, or I swear,"
Ronan let out a weak, humorless laugh between ragged breaths. "Not... my fault."
"Oh, really? Because it kinda looks like you've been hiding something again." Rook's voice was sharp, but there was an edge of fear beneath it.
Ronan tried to shake his head, but the movement sent another wave of nausea rolling through him. His limbs felt too heavy, his thoughts sluggish, and the pain, God, the pain was getting worse. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out.
Then suddenly, more hands were on him. A familiar voice cut through the haze. "Get him to the healer's hut. Now."
Through blurry vision, Ronan caught a glimpse of his mother's worried face before darkness threatened to pull him under again. The last thing he felt was Rook tightening his grip, his voice sharp and unwavering.
"Stay with me, Ronan."