CHAPTER 152: CHAPTER 152: THE TETHER OF BLOOD

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The hall was chaos behind them. Screams, orders, footsteps pounding against the underground stone like war drums. But Cyrin Alastor didn’t turn back. He couldn’t.

The Ghosthound Queen’s bloodied body was draped across his arms like a weapon sheathed in flesh. Her hair, long, thick, and matted with crimson, dangled with a life of its own as he carried her rapidly into the secluded wing of the underground.

Varya was beside him, her boots slamming hard against the stone as she struggled to keep up.

They burst into the medical bay, the one they had converted into a lab after Kieran left to get the Ghosthound Queen. The fluorescent lights flickered above them as Cyrin laid the queen onto the reinforced table and immediately strapped her down with thick silver cuffs they’d created specifically for this moment.

She didn’t even look human anymore.

She was regality and horror. Majesty and death.

And she was waking up.

"The blade is melting," Cyrin said, voice tight with urgency as he pulled off his gloves and reached for the tank of wolfsbane they’ve bought

He looked to Varya. "We’re out of time. We haven’t figured it out yet, we don’t know how to stabilize her."

The ECG monitor attached to her chest beeped erratically, a tell-tale sign that the silver keeping her docile was losing its grip. Her claws had already begun to twitch, curling and uncurling. Her lips peeled back into a faint snarl. Her heart rate was rising, far too fast.

Cyrin turned the dial on the wolfsbane tank. The pale greenish-blue liquid began to flow through the tubes like poison through veins, seeping into her bloodstream in steady, rhythmic pulses.

"She must not wake up," Cyrin muttered. "Not yet. Not like this."

Varya stared at her mother’s face, so much like her own but hollowed out by centuries of violence. Her voice trembled when she finally spoke. "We don’t have a choice, do we?"

"No." Cyrin’s voice was grim. "She wakes up now, and this entire base turns into a graveyard. We’ll all die before we even see her eyes fully open."

He motioned for Varya to increase the pressure from the secondary tank. She nodded and obeyed, flipping a series of switches. The metallic arms on either side of the queen’s bed tightened as the sedative cocktail began to pump faster.

"Steady," Cyrin whispered, watching the heart rate. "Keep it just below the spike point. If we give her too much, we kill her. Too little...." He trailed off.

She kills us.

Beads of sweat dripped from his temples as he worked. The wolfsbane mixture began to slow her pulse, stabilizing her rhythm, but just barely. Her body thrashed once, the cuffs groaning under the strain, but they held.

Varya was shaking. "I... I can’t believe she did that to Lorraine. I mean, she’s the Alpha Queen...."

"She’s not the Alpha Queen right now," Cyrin cut in. "Not until we find a way to reach whatever soul still exists behind that wolf. For now, she’s the Ghosthound. That’s all."

Varya swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

The monitor’s line smoothed slightly.

They’d bought themselves time.

But not much.

Cyrin stood in front of the reinforced bed, watching the tranquil green-blue flow of wolfsbane seep into the Ghosthound Queen’s veins. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was slowing, but each beat felt like a ticking clock. One step closer to the inevitable.

"We only have one tank of wolfsbane," Cyrin muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse with fatigue and dread. "Once this is done, we’re out. That’s all the time we’ve got, Varya."

Varya turned sharply to face him, panic flashing in her blue eyes. "Just one?"

Cyrin gave a single tight nod. "One tank of wolfsbane. That’s the time we have to figure out how to stabilize her before she wakes. If we don’t...." He gestured toward the bloodstained cuffs holding down the queen’s body. "I don’t even want to imagine what is going to happen"

Varya swallowed. "Then we better start thinking Dad, we better start thinking fast"

Meanwhile...

In the medical wing opposite the lab, chaos had taken a new name, Lorraine Anderson.

Astrid Voss hovered over the bloodied bed, her hands stained crimson, her brows furrowed in utter disbelief. Her long coat had been flung off in haste, and the gauze, herbs, syringes, none of it was enough.

"She’s fading," Magnus muttered, holding pressure on Lorraine’s shoulder stump. The blood had soaked through the thickest bandages they had, spilling over the table, the floor, the very air around them.

Astrid’s breath hitched as she watched Lorraine’s pulse on the monitor begin to flicker, dip, disappear for a second, then return. "Why.... why isn’t her wolf healing her? She should’ve healed by now!"

Magnus clenched his jaw. "She’s in shock. The trauma was too fast, too brutal. The bond between her and her wolf hasn’t fully matured. The wolf probably shut down."

Astrid blinked back the sting of tears. "But she’s supposed to survive this! She’s not supposed to die. Not her."

"Voss...."

"I promised her, Magnus!" Astrid screamed suddenly, her hands trembling as she shoved the bloody tray off the side table. It clattered to the floor with a crash. "I told her she was going to be the one who’d change the story. I told her she wasn’t going to be another dead feral."

Magnus froze.

And then, slowly, he stepped forward and caught her as she collapsed into him, her face pressed into his chest. Astrid Voss, iron willed, steel-tongued, immovable Astrid..... was breaking.

"We have to save her," she whispered, voice raw. "We must, Magnus. If Lorraine dies.... this fight is over before it even begins."

Magnus held her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other still pressing the bloody bandages on Lorraine. "Then we don’t panic," he said quietly. "We think. We stop letting emotion blind us and figure out how to bring her back."

"She’s lost too much blood," Astrid choked as she stared at Lorraine’s pale face

Her pulse was hanging by a thread, a single beat away from silence.

Astrid stood frozen, her eyes locked on the monitor, on the steady drop of life ebbing from Lorraine’s body.

Her fingers trembled, but she swallowed down the knot in her throat and spoke.

"There’s something," she said, voice low but firm. "There’s one thing we can do." She turned to Magnus. "The forbidden ritual, the forceful wolf awakeming"

Magnus’s eyes darkened instantly. "Astrid...."

"We’ve used it on her once," she continued, ignoring his warning tone. "When she was severely injured too and wasn’t healing, we took her to the Hollow Grounds, under the full moon and we woke up her wolf and it healed her. We can do it again now"

Magnus exhaled heavily. "And the cost? You had the poowr of the full moon to channel then, but there’s no full moon tonight. Doing the ritual solely with your powers will drain you, it can kill you"

Astrid’s jaw clenched. "I know, I know what what it costs"

"I dont think you do" Magnus snapped. "It will tear through you. The ritual drains the conductor, you, and it requires a lot of rare elements we don’t have on hand right now and we do not have the time to go out there looking for it"

Astrid’s lips parted to argue, but she couldn’t. He was right.

Damn him, he was always right.

Her shoulders sagged. "So what? We just.... stand here? Let her bleed out while her wolf stays silent?"

The door burst open before Magnus could answer.

And Kieran stormed in like a thundercloud.

His chest was still streaked with drying blood. His crimson eyes scanned the room, and landed on Lorraine, still unmoving, her skin ashen. Something cracked in his gaze.

"Perform the ritual," he said, voice like ice.

Astrid’s eyes widened. "We just told you...."

"We don’t have enough time to gather the ingredients," Magnus interrupted gently. "We barely have the time to go looking for them, Your Majesty."

Kieran didn’t even blink.

"Then keep her alive until you’re ready." His voice lowered. "Use me. Transfuse my blood into her."

The room fell into stunned silence.

"Your blood....?" Astrid echoed.

Kieran stepped forward, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. "I am her mate," he said, each word sharp, shattering the tension. "My Lycan blood carries regenerative properties for her. It should stabilize her long enough for you to begin the ritual. Do what you must, but do not let her die."

Magnus stared at him, stunned. "Mate...? You and Lorraine...."

"Yes." Kieran didn’t flinch. "I’m her mate. And my bond with her is strong enough to keep her from slipping away."

Astrid and Magnus exchanged a glance

Without another word, Astrid moved to prep the line for transfusion. "Get me tubing. A clean needle" she said to Magnus

Kieran was already shrugging off his shirt.

Magnus stepped forward, holding the equipment with swift efficiency. "Are you sure about this."

"Do it," Kieran replied.

A moment later, the tubing connected Kieran’s arm to Lorraine’s, and the deep crimson of his Lycan blood began to flow into her veins, slowly, but steadily.

Kieran’s gaze never left her pale face.

"Stay with me," he whispered, a rawness in his voice only the dying and the damned ever heard. "Stay with me, little wolf. I still need you."