Michael P.O.V

"I love you, Michael," Charlie mumbles softly.

His voice is soft and loving. My ears want to take in every vibration of his voice. There's just something so pure about Charlie that I love so much.

Charlie gives me the motivation to run faster. I need to get him to the hospital. I listen to his heartbeat and his breathing as I run as a way to keep track of him. His breathing is shallow and his heartbeat is soft. He's only getting worse.

Finally, we reach Charlie's house. My truck is parked in his driveway, just where I left it. I bark to get Charlie's attention. He sits up and rubs his eyes for a moment before opening the back door of my truck. Slowly, he tries to climb in with his good leg. I shift and help by lifting him up.

"Thanks," he says softly, laying across the backseat.

"Don't thank me yet," I tell him.

I grab the spare set of clothes I keep under the seat and change quickly before getting in the driver's seat. I jam the keys into the ignition and begin to drive to the hospital as quickly as I can. I use the rearview mirror to keep an eye on Charlie while I drive.

"I knew you would find me," he says softly.

"I would've gotten there sooner if-"

"Don't do that. You came and got me. If you didn't I'd still be bleeding out in that godforsaken barn," Charlie cuts me off.

I sigh softly and continue driving. Luckily my injuries are nothing compared to Charlie's. My head is bruised and sore, but the bleeding has stopped. Other then some scratches and a few puncture wounds from James' teeth, I'm okay.

"I still got you into this," I mutter under my breath.

"No, you didn't. Stop blaming yourself for your brother's insane actions," Charlie instructs sternly.

I let out a quiet sigh and keep driving. Charlie obviously doesn't want me to blame myself for anything that's happened to him recently, but in reality, it's all my fault. Whether Charlie wants to admit it or not, I'm the reason he's getting hurt.

After about twenty minutes, we reach the hospital. Charlie groans when I pick him up from the backseat. I mumble an apology as I carry him into the emergency room.

Trained medical professionals take over from there. Charlie and I are separated as we are treated. I'm not informed of the extent of his injuries.

As much as I want to be with Charlie, I'm forced to get treatment for my wounds. Normally I would insist that I was fine, but the blood on my clothes and body gives me away. I wouldn't be able to object if I tried.

I patiently go through all the medical procedures that I'm being subjected to. Most of it is routine; listening to my heartbeat, taking my blood pressure, testing my reflexes.

"No signs of a concussion, but you'll need stitches for that gash in your head," the doctor says while flicking the air bubbles out of a syringe.

"Alright," I mutter softly.

She sticks me with the syringe to numb my head. It doesn't take long for the numbness to set in. Once I can't feel anything, she begins stitching me up.

"Would you mind telling me what happened?" the doctor asks.

"Animal attack," I mutter vaguely.

"What kind of animal?" she pries.

I try to avoid answering the question. The pack doesn't need to be in any more danger. James has caused this shit-show. I'm sure our father will have a coronary from his rage.

"Michael?" the doctor asks as she finishes up my stitches. "Do you remember what kind of animal it was?"

"No," I lie, taking the opportunity to cover James' tracks.

My lie isn't a favor for him. If I could throw him under the bus without endangering the pack, I would. I wouldn't even hesitate. Unfortunately, I can't betray the pack and put them in danger.

"Well, if you happen to remember, keep it in mind for when I check up on you. Get some rest now."

"Is Charlie okay?" I ask her as she is about to leave.

"He had to have a blood transfusion and other doctors are still working to patch him up. I'll have someone keep you informed about his condition," she tells me.

I sigh quietly and nod. The doctor leaves the room and closes the door. I rub my face gently and let out a long breath. Knowing that Charlie lost enough blood to need a transfusion is worrisome. James injured him severely and I want to return the favor. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I'll be able to.

I lie in the hospital bed and stare at the ceiling. It's been more than half an hour and I haven't received any news about Charlie. I want to know if he's okay. I know that I'm fine because I'm a wolf. I'm meant to be able to endure fighting. Charlie is a human; he's fragile. I always have to force myself to keep that in mind.

James didn't even hesitate to go full force. Charlie never stood a fighting chance. James easily overpowered him, just to play psychological games with me. His sick methods make me beyond infuriated. James has never been the right person to be the next Pack Master. Perhaps after this, our father will finally realize that.

There's a soft knock on the door before it opens. The doctor comes in with a clipboard in hand. She goes through the routine vital checks while jotting down notes on her clipboard.

"How's Charlie?" I ask her while she scribbles.

"He'll need to stay several days while he recovers. We've gone ahead and contacted his parents and they'll be arriving in time to take him home," she explains.

"So he's okay?"

"He's stable right now, yes. He's hopped up on pain meds and taking a nice nap," she jokes.

Once she's done with checking me, she leaves the room again. I'm left with my thoughts. My brain can finally relax knowing that Charlie is okay. I got him here just in time. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I hadn't. Luckily, he'll be okay.