The room was a mess.
The chair near the bed had been knocked over, and the small table near the window had been smashed, its contents scattered across the floor. The air felt heavier than before, thick with heat. For one terrible second, Raine didn’t see Landon at all.
"Landon?" she called softly, but there was no answer. Her eyes scanned the room—and then she saw him.
Landon was on the floor, near the other side of the bed. His body was rigid, with one hand clutching his chest. His breathing was shallow and uneven; each inhale was a visible struggle.
"Oh, no," Raine whispered. She rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside him. "Landon. Hey. Look at me."
His face was pale—too pale—and the black veins on the left side of his face stood out on it; they had spread, crawling farther down his neck now, branching like roots beneath his skin. His left eye was open, fully black, and unfocused. His jaw clenched as a low, broken sound came from his throat.
Raine’s fear surged—but she didn’t move away. "Oh, no," Raine whispered again. "Landon," she said sharply, shaking his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
He didn’t respond—only groaned faintly, his head rolling to the side.
Raine pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and hissed under her breath. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
His skin was burning. It was a fever. "That’s not possible," she muttered under her breath. Shifters didn’t get fevers. No. Shifters never got fevers—not like this.
Shifters had a special healing ability. Their bodies burned through sickness before it could ever take hold. But her hand against his forehead told her everything.
He had a fever, and it was a high one. For one to spike this high meant his healing ability was failing. Or worse—being defeated.
Raine tried to lift him, bracing her feet against the stone floor and pulling under his shoulders.
He didn’t budge. He was far too heavy, his body limp and uncooperative.
"Damn it," she muttered. "Of course you’re heavy. Why wouldn’t you be heavy?" Panic flared in her chest, threatening.
She couldn’t leave him like this. She braced her feet and tried again, sliding her arms beneath his shoulders.
He groaned, and the sound stopped her. "Sorry," she said immediately. "This is bad," she murmured. "This is very bad." She pressed two fingers to his neck. His pulse raced beneath her touch. "Stay with me," she ordered softly. "I need you conscious." But Landon didn’t respond at all.
Raine swallowed with difficulty. She can’t lift him alone. She looked toward the door. "I’ll be right back. Do not die."
She ran out of the room and nearly collided with the first warrior she saw. Two warriors were guarding near the stairwell.
"You," she barked. "I need help."
They stiffened at her tone. "What happened?" one of the warriors demanded.
"It’s Landon. He’s down. High fever." Raine spoke breathlessly, trying to calm her breathing.
Both men froze. "That’s impossible. Shifters don’t get fevers," the taller one said.
"Yes, apparently it is," Raine snapped. "Now, move."
Something in her voice must have convinced them. They followed her without another question. When they entered the room and saw Landon on the floor, the disbelief vanished from their faces. "Goddess..." one of them breathed.
"Don’t just stare at him. Get him onto his bed," Raine ordered, already moving to clear space. "Carefully. Support his head."
They hesitated only for a moment before obeying. Together, they lifted him easily.
Raine winced but kept her focus, guiding them until he was laid flat on the mattress. "Blankets off," Raine said immediately.
"What?" The shorter warrior asked.
"He’s overheating. Remove them."
They pulled the heavy covers away.
Raine turned toward the men. "I need cold water. Clean cloths. A bowl. And bring me crushed ice if you have it. I also need silverleaf, frostroot, and any available fever suppressants. Now."
One of them blinked. "Silverleaf?"
"Yes," Raine snapped. "And hurry."
They didn’t argue further. They turned and left at a run.
Raine exhaled shakily and turned back to Landon. His breathing had worsened. His chest rose too fast, each breath shallow and strained. His skin was flushed, almost glowing with heat; sweat beaded along his hairline and soaked into the pillow under his head.
His hands moved weakly on the mattress. His lips moved. Raine leaned closer. However, he continued to speak incoherently, which she couldn’t discern. The black veins along his left temple pulsed.
Raine pressed two fingers again to his neck, counting the rapid pulse beneath her touch. Too fast. Far too fast.
Suddenly, Raine could hear heavy footsteps down the hall, and then the air shifted. The presence of power and dominance rolled into the room before the man did. The door slammed open behind her.
Raine turned just as Alpha Janson stepped into the room. His eyes went straight to the bed, to his son, and to the healer beside him. "What happened?" he demanded.
"He collapsed. High fever."
Janson snapped. "That’s impossible. Shifters don’t get fevers.""
Rania exhales. "So, everyone keeps saying."
Janson crossed the room in two strides. He grabbed Landon’s jaw, turning his son’s face toward the light. He noticed that the veins in Landon’s face were now darker. Janson’s expression changed. Not to fear, but to fury. He turned slowly toward Raine. "You were alone with him."
"I was."
"And now he’s like this."
"He is."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop despite Landon’s burning skin.
Janson stepped closer. His eyes flashed. "My son is burning. You were supposed to heal him."
"I am," she said, holding her ground. "But you need to let me work."
A heavy and volatile silence stretched between them. Janson’s gaze shifted back to Landon, whose breathing had become labored, and a faint tremor ran through his body.
The Alpha’s fury was palpable. "This is your fault," he said, his voice low and shaking. "You were bought for this."
Raine stepped closer. "Then listen to me and let me work."
Janson looked at her, eyes blazing. "I should have you whipped for that tone alone," he said quietly.
"Go ahead," Raine replied. "But if you damage my hands, I can’t treat him." She stepped even closer—not backing down. "If you punish me now, he dies," she said simply. "Is that a risk you’re willing to take?"
Landon groaned weakly behind her and Janson’s attention was drawn back to the bed. The sound was raw. Human. Janson’s voice lowered slightly. "Can you fix it?"
"Yes," she said. The word was steady and confident. Even if her heart wasn’t.
Janson stilled. His jaw tightened. "Are you certain?"
"No," Raine admitted. "But I’m your best chance."