Chapter 109 Viremia
ARDEN
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“This calls for a celebration!” Nathan declared, rising to his feet and heading toward the kitchen.
Mirage groaned, though a smile danced on her lips. “Don’t open the bottle from the winter vault,” she warned him, already knowing exactly what he intended to do.
“I make no promises!” he called over his shoulder, vanishing into the kitchen.
Cade shook his head, hiding his amusement behind a sip of water. Honey clapped her hands. excitedly, her eyes bright. “Celebration! I want pink juice!”
“You’ll get juice,” Cade confirmed, taking on the role of the protective older brother. “But no alcohol for you.”
Bethany chuckled softly, setting her tea aside. “I shouldn’t be drinking either,” she said gently. Her voice sounded thinner now, her hands slightly unsteady as she reached for her neck.
I smiled and reached for Cade’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. A small smile appeared on his lips, and I found myself mirroring his expression. However, my smile quickly faded.
The sound of Bethany’s coughing echoed in the room. I had heard it enough times that it had become familiar.
Bethany turned away slightly, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. Cade leaned forward, concern already darkening his features.
“Are you alright?” he began.
“I’m fine,” she cut in quickly, rising to her feet. “Just the air. I’ll step out for a moment.”
Before anyone could stop her, she slipped out into the hallway.
I stood up instinctively.
I sensed Mirage and Cade’s urgency too, but I softly shook my head.
“Stay,” I muttered, then moved toward the hallway. “I’ll check on her. I’m not much of a drinker either.”
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With that, I followed her scent until I found her on the balcony.
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As soon as I stepped outside, the crisp air hit me. Bethany, gripping the railing, was coughing again. But this time, it was more violent than before. Her shoulders shook
With the force of it. and when her hand dropped from her mouth, I saw the unmistakable stain of red on her palm.
“Crap,” I whispered, rushing to her side.
She gasped when I approached, but I could see the pain in her eyes.
I shrugged off my jacket and placed it over her lips, wiping away the remnants of blood.
“It’ll get ruined,” she said hoarsely, her voice cracking between shallow breaths.
“It’s okay.” I replied, holding it around her tighter. “Sit.”
She didn’t argue, easing herself onto the bench by the stone railing, still trembling. I crouched beside her, scanning her face.
It took a few seconds for my brain to connect what I was seeing. But once it clicked, I realized. I had read about this before..
“You have…” I began, my voice trailing off.
It couldn’t be. But I knew it was.
Viremia.
It was one of the few chronic illnesses that had begun to surface in werewolf society- something that, for centuries, didn’t exist. Werewolves didn’t get cancer the way humans did; our cells regenerated too quickly and repaired too well. Human illnesses rarely stood a chance against us.
But pollution, exposure to corrupt magic, and prolonged stress could break down the regeneration process from within.
A new wave of incurable sicknessee
had begun to rise, and Viremia was the worst of them. It attacked the lungs first–rotting them from the inside like black mold. Then it turned on the brain, making you forget much of what you’ve learned. In the worst–case scenarios, forming new memories became impossible.
This illness made the body turn against itself, and no healer, no elixir, no bloodline seemed
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immune.
It was rare and fatal.
“You said you only had prediabetes and hypertension.”
The words escaped me before I could stop them.
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Bethany let out a small laugh. “Oh, come on,” she said, her voice dry. “That’s even rarer in werewolves than Viremia.”
I bit my lip, unable to suppress my concern.
There was so much blood on her palm–too much for something she pretended wasn’t serious.
She noticed my stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m sad,” I whispered.
Bethany’s expression didn’t change, but something behind her eyes did. The humor faded, and the mask faltered.
“So,” I murmured, “you really didn’t run again because you were sick. The rumors were right.”
She looked away, resting both hands on the stone railing. Her fingers trembled faintly even as she gripped the edge.
“That’s one reason,” she admitted. “But the reason I told you about is the true one. I’m really tired, Arden. I just want to rest.”“
She paused. “My two terms are the very reason I got Viremia in the first place.”
I stared at her, shocked.
Stress. Years of leadership. Unending pressure. The burden of expectation.
That’s what Viremia fed on–more than blood or breath. It thrived in those who carried too much for too long and never stopped to heal.
I swallowed hard. “How long have you had it?”
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Bethany didn’t answer.
Viremia typically began slowly. A shortness of breath here, a dry cough there. Then, after a year or two, it becomes aggressive. The moment it does, there’s no turning back.
I could only hope and pray that she was still in the early stages, especially since her cognitive abilities were still very much intact.
Bethany leaned back against the railing, drawing in a slow, raspy breath. “It’s fine.”
No, it’s not.
She turned her head, her eyes fixed on the view beyond the balcony. The endless forest was beautiful, but alongside it, the loneliness was evident. In such vast land, only a few hearts
beat.
“I thought I wouldn’t be able to give it up,” she said suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “This life, I mean. Along with this role.”
She gave a quiet chuckle, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“You see, this life of mine isn’t as fulfilling as people think. Of course, I’m thankful for the things I’ve done–the systems I helped build, the wolves I trained, the order I enforced. But…”
She hesitated.
“There’s always a part of me that’s looking for someone,” she whispered. “I mean, something,” she corrected quickly, sitting upright.
But I noticed it.
That slip.
Someone.
“I always thought I’d feel empty if I ever stepped away,” she continued. “But I found something now. It makes me think I’m allowed to leave without regret.”
Her eyes flicked to me then.
And for a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.
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In that instant, I realized–with a strange sort of certainty–that I didn’t want her to leave.
Ever.
I clicked my tongue. “You shouldn’t be with us,” I said, a bit too firmly. “You should be with. your family, spending time with them and making the most of your life. Once all of this is over, you need to go on a vacation, alright?”
Bethany smiled. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll do just that.”
Then she sighed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You have a long fight ahead of you,” she added. “Focus on that.”
But how could I?
How could I not worry about her?
Even if we’d only known each other for a short while… I felt like I’d known her forever.
And now, I might not have much time left to know her at all.
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