Morning sunlight streamed through the windows. Damien sat slouched in a chair, holding Alexia's limp hand. There were bags under his eyes and he hadn't shaved. Remnants of old blood still stuck to his temple, which had bruised blue and purple. He had scared off any nurses bold enough to try to treat his wounds.

    Maeve eyed him in part sympathy and part caution. She'd dealt with her fair share of broody, pissy men in her lifetime, but Damien just about topped the list. An angry, powerful alpha werewolf hell-bent on getting his way was never a good mix. Especially while he was holding his comatose mate's hand and running on about three hours of sleep and almost no food.

    Maeve turned her attention back to Alexia and Damien watched her warily as she worked. Slowly, she sat back. "They drained her."

    "What the hell does that mean?" Damien asked flatly, his voice rocky.

    She sounded exhausted. "There's not much research into this because hybrids like her are so rare, so I can't be sure." She paused. "But it looks like they managed to break the barrier to her magic side."

    "That's how she could use magic," he muttered.

    "Yes. They were siphoning off energy to use for themselves. And she was using magic when she escaped?"

    Damien grunted in affirmation.

    "Poor thing," Maeve shook her head, "she didn't have the stamina. All magic users know that they have their limits. It's like a muscle, you have to train it. Even you werewolves can't stay in one form or another for extended periods of time - you become sick, correct?"

    He nodded, eyes on Alexia's face. "It's dangerous."

    "That's because it takes too much energy. It's the same idea. Alexia used too much energy too fast when she escaped. And she was already exhausted. Her body couldn't handle it. So it shut down."

    "That's why she's not healing." He dragged a hand down his face and cursed under his breath.

    Maeve nodded slowly.

    "Is there a way to help her?"

    "I don't know," she said frankly. "This sort of thing only has happened a couple of times in history."

    "Fuck." Damien slumped in his chair.

    Maeve watched Damien for a moment. She hadn't the heart to tell him that this had happened once before, hundreds of years before. Rumor had it that a hybrid had his magic unlocked in pursuit of power. But later that week they'd found him in bloody chunks in the middle of the forest. He'd blown away every tree in a hundred foot radius. Maeve slowly stood and stepped out of the room, heart heavy.

    Damien squeezed Alexia's hand. "Princess, you're going to wake up. Come on. Just try to move a finger." His voice was a whisper. "Move a finger."

    There was no response.

    "C'mon Princess. You're the strongest woman I know. Move one finger, Princess. You can do it." He urged, voice strained.

    He clenched his jaw and looked away. "Goddamnit!" He exploded, forcing his voice to a whisper. "Alexia Quinn, Luna of the Silvermoon pack, ex-Beta of the Firefang pack. My mate. I swear to any deity up there, you will move your fucking finger."

    Her body was still as death.

    He let his head drop. His shoulders were tense, his elbows rested on his knees. Her hand lay peacefully in his larger one. He looked like a defeated man.  "Fuck. How did we even get here Princess? How the hell did we even get here?" He murmured.

    In his palm, the pale hand was still. And then it twitched. Just a simple movement, a small shudder.

Damien froze. And then the chair was flung backwards. He stood in a flash, eyes seeking her face, daring to hope that maybe they would finally be open. His head hit a machine as he lurched forward. It slammed against the wall and tipped, yanking wires as it went.

"Shit! Fuck!" He caught it as it fell, wincing. He shoved the metal contraption back and dove for the doctor's call button. Behind him, the machine tipped dangerously.

The doctor ran into the room, panting a bit, eyes going to the still patient in the bed, then to the normal heart monitor, then to his slightly flustered Alpha who held a mess of wires and metal, peering over the top of the box with wide eyes.

"May I ask... what happened, Alpha?" The doctor asked, extremely confused and slightly concerned.

"Her hand!" Damien shoved the box back onto the shelf unceremoniously. "It moved!"

"Oh." The doctor's shoulders relaxed. "Yes, that's not unusual."

"What does it mean? Is she waking up?" He couldn't keep the hope from bubbling over in his chest.

"Ah, no. I'm afraid involuntary twitching is common in coma patients, Alpha."

It was like a fucking tub of cold water was dumped over his head. "Dammit," he growled. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he turned away and punched the wall. "Shit!"

His knuckles stung from the impact and crimson beads of blood seeped from the split skin. The doctor quietly left Damien to his own thoughts. Frustration filled him as he collapsed back into the chair. He'd gotten his hopes up, like a fool. It would be a long process, he knew it, but

Chris appeared in the doorway. "She any better?"

"No." Damien growled.

"Sorry, man." Chris stepped inside and collapsed into one of the chairs, eyeing Damien's knuckles. "How are you holding up?"

"Fucking dandy."

Chris pressed his lips together. "We both know that's not true."

Damien ground his teeth and stared at the ground. "You know how people say they would go to the end of the world for people? And I would, God, I'd do anything in the world. But then it happens, and you realize that you don't know how. You don't know what to do." Damien scrubbed a hand down his face and picked up Alexia's motionless hand again. "There's nothing you can do. And it's the most agonizing feeling in the world. Being useless."

Silence descended over them for a moment.

"I'm going to fucking rip them to shreds." Damien growled softly. "They won't even know what hit them."

"Damien..."

"Look what they fucking did to her, Chris. Don't patronize me. Just fucking look. They destroyed her. They took the strongest woman I know and they crushed her. They put her in chains and they ripped her apart again and again. They stole her power, they stole her privacy, they stole her body. And she still had the fucking strength to kill half of them." Damien looked up at his best friend, eyes tortured and the darkest Chris had ever seen them. Those were beastly, angry eyes. His voice was soft, barely controlled. "The doctors say she's never going to get rid of the scars. They marked her. Those will be there for the rest of her life as a sick reminder of what they did to her."

Chris saw the agony that filled Damien's eyes. The anger was so strong it filled the room.

"Marking her wasn't their fucking decision to make. Torturing her, hurting her, scarring her for life wasn't supposed to be their decision to make. Taking her from me wasn't their fucking decision! And I'm going to make sure they damn well know that when I get my hands on them. Mark. My. Goddamn. Words." His growl had become feral, almost unrecognizable.

In that moment, Chris was scared of Damien. They'd grown up together - Chris had seen first-hand how hurt Damien was when his parents left. Chris had seen how it tormented him, he'd seen the anger that came with it. But the wildness that lurked in Damien's eyes now was darker than that by far. It was sadistic and cruel and inhuman and it stopped for no one. This could destroy him.

A/N

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