Burn in the Alpha Princess's Wrath novel Chapter 282

Chapter 282 The Sickroom

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+8 Pearls

By all logic, Kirby was an Alpha–silver bullets or not, his wounds should have closed long ago.

But the shot had landed in a cruel place. The spine was the body’s nerve center, difficult to heal.

A werewolf’s nervous system was complicated beyond my knowledge. Perhaps the weather, or something else, had caused this sudden change.

His pale face flashed through my mind, stirring a knot of uneasy emotion.

Malach’s eyes lingered on me, heavy with silence, as though waiting for my reaction. His pheromones radiated loyalty and steadiness, but beneath them was a faint trace of calculation.

This Beta’s loyalty is real enough, Asphodel sneered in my mind. But his acting could use work.

I ignored the jab and spoke evenly. “Bring a bowl of food.”

Light flickered in Malach’s eyes. He dipped his head quickly. “Yes, Leslie.”

He turned, his steps faster than usual, as if afraid I might change my mind.

I stood outside Kirby’s door and knocked.

The air carried his familiar mint scent, weakened now, tinged with sickness.

No answer.

I frowned, ready to turn away, when the door suddenly opened.

Kirby stood there, pale as snow, lips drained of all color. His left hand gripped a cane, trembling, while his right lifted an IV bottle overhead, the motion so strained it made my tighten.

chest

My gaze dropped to his hand–where the needle teetered dangerously, blood seeping around it in tiny beads. The sight stabbed at me.

“Leslie…” His voice was low and rough. But when he saw me, a faint light stirred in his eyes. “Come in.”

I stepped forward, steadying the IV bottle in his hand. My voice stayed calm. “Careful.”

He retreated to the bed, lowering himself back down with agonizing slowness, as though every movement drained him.

I hung the bottle back on the stand and looked down at him. “Kirby, are you feeling any

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9:09 Fri, Sep 19 B

Chapter 292 The Sickroom

better?”

-9 Pearts

His eyes flickered. He managed a weak smile. “Much better. You didn’t catch a chill, did you?”

The softness in his voice carried fatigue, thin as a breeze.

Malach entered with a bowl of porridge. Seeing Kirby’s state, his gaze darkened with worry.

He offered me the bowl, his voice low and earnest. “Leslie, Alpha Kirby has worn himself thin for your sake. He’s done so much…”

His tone was restrained, but his eyes flicked between us, as if hoping I would answer in kind.

I glanced at him without expression, then said flatly, “I heard. You had the hot search pulled. Thank you.”

My voice was steady.

Kirby smiled faintly, his eyes softening. “Don’t mention it.”

Malach slipped out, pausing at the door. He cast me one last look, filled with quiet expectation.

I lowered my gaze to the bowl of food, then set it before Kirby. The spoon was already resting inside. “Eat it yourself.”

It was the farthest I could bend. He had been hurt because of me–no matter how cold I wanted to be, some part of me couldn’t turn away.

He lifted his right hand. His fingers shook. “This hand… it doesn’t have the strength.”

His voice was barely audible, but his eyes lingered on mine, searching.

I froze for several seconds, the bowl heavy in my hand.

Just as he thought I would feed him myself, I turned sharply toward the door and called out-

“Shane!”

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