Chapter Twenty-Two
Olivia
The moment that the poacher let go of Olivia she knew she had to go get help. If she could have stayed and been of any use to Dominic and Atticus she would have done anything she could. But those men were too strong and ready for a fight. Without being able to shift and fight with them, there was nothing she could do except get help.
Cabin to cabin she ran as fast as she could, pounding on the doors, though so many of them were empty, gone to help other packs. The exhausted ones that were left she woke with her incessant pounding. She didn’t need to even say a word to them as they came flying out of their cabins, their wolves springing into action at the wild sight of her face. She was terrified, not just for herself but of what may be happening to Atticus and Dominic while they tried to stand their ground on their own. There was only the two of them to protect the pack.
After the first few cabins, the commotion became so loud that the other shifters emerged without her loud knocking. When she saw that everyone was coming, the wolves were racing to the ring in front of Atticus’ cabin, she raced back as fast as her feet could take her. If only she could do something, if only she could fight!
By the time she got back to the pack and the poachers, there was such chaos that it took her a moment to find everyone. Dominic was larger than the rest of the pack and he held such a presence that her eyes traveled right to him. He didn’t know she was there but she watched as man after man attempted to attack him, only to be thrown off of his golden fur and attacked by a back-up wolf. She hated to watch him fight but was instantly impressed by his skills. She could see why he took such care to keep himself restrained from his fighting but it was clear why he’d been sent to the protector’s pack.
Seeing that Dominic was safe, she continued to search the fray to find Atticus. But try as she might, she couldn’t locate him. Sickness turned in her stomach as she knew what that might mean. If he wasn’t up on his feet fighting, that could very well mean he was down on the ground hurting. Or worse.
On instinct, Olivia dropped to the ground, searching between the scrambles of feet and the bodies that kept hitting the ground during the fight. One of the poachers stood from the ground to rejoin the fight and it was then that she saw him. Atticus was lying on the ground, not moving. From where Olivia was, she couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing.
“Atticus!” she screamed.
No one even turned toward her, the shouts and growling were far too loud for anyone to hear her.
Without thinking she ran straight into the mess and dropped to her father. Tears were pouring out of her as she pleaded words she didn’t even understand as they dripped form her lips. He couldn’t be dead, he had to be ok.
She put her palm on his chest and continued to beg and cry, urging him to be breathing. She just needed to feel the tiniest movement from him, anything at all to tell her he was still alive. Though she saw the blood that had seeped out and coated his fur, she didn’t let her mind realize it. She just kept her palm there, aware that at any moment a poacher could kill her in an instant, yet also aware that until the very end she was not going to leave Atticus.
Then at least, a breath. It was small, almost imperceptible—but it was there.
Frantically, Olivia knew she had to get her father out of the fight. With every ounce of strength she had, she lifted the front of his body and began to drag him up the porch. Step after step, Olivia exerted all of her energy, sweat now mixing with her still falling tears.
This time when she pleaded with him, there was more hope inside of her. Atticus was still with her, he was still there, and he was fighting his own fight.
A sudden sharp slice went into Olivia’s ribs and she fell backwards from her father’s side. She looked down at the pain, certain that she was going to see that a poacher had finally realized that she was there, but there was no wound. Confused she looked back up at the fight and saw it was not her but Dominic who had been struck with a knife.
Terrified she froze in place as she watched the wolf she knew she was destined for lay on the ground. She couldn’t lose both of them in one night, could she? Life wouldn’t be that cruel would it?
But then she saw a scene that she’d never forget. The wild rage that tore through Dominic was visible as he clawed and beat the poacher.
The men watched the danger and the fury from Dominic and ran screaming back into the woods, hiding in the night. But Dominic didn’t stop. Not until Ernest tapped his shoulder, reminding him gently that shifters were not allowed to kill a human.
Dominic reluctantly stood, blood covering him, and let the man weakly disappear into the night. It didn’t matter to her if that man lived or died, but she was certain their pack wouldn’t be bothered again. Not when Dominic was there to protect them.
She turned her attention back to her father, numbness filling her body and mind.
They carried his limp, nearly lifeless body to his own bed and covered him up. Atticus’ body was calming but he was still in wolf form, not enough left in him to shift back to himself.
Olivia sat next to him, patting his fur, crying more than she’d ever remembered crying in her life.
“Please, we have to do something,” she told the pack.
They stood their solemnly around his bed, no one able to do anything. She turned to Dominic. He had to fix this, someone had to fix this. But Dominic’s sad eyes only looked at her and took Olivia’s hand in comfort. She was going to have to say goodbye.
Olivia threw herself on top of her father’s body, sobbing long heaving sobs of pain, the tears wetting his fur, seeping into his skin. She didn’t know how long she laid there like that, crying on top of her dying father, but she was aware that she had soaked him completely with her tears.
“Olivia, look.”
It was Dominic’s voice she heard, possibly the only thing that could have pulled her from the misery she was feeling inside. But she looked up at him anyway and with an expression that can only be considered mystified, she followed his gaze to where her father was opening his eyes.
“Daddy?”
Olivia almost never called Atticus that, but in the moments of his near death she felt like a vulnerable child again.
“Olivia,” he said, relief in his voice.
Atticus fingered the injury to his side, a large gash that had caused him to not only bleed but also damage him on the inside. Olivia’s eyes traveled to the wound where moments earlier it had seemed much large. In fact, the longer she watched the more his body begin to heal itself.
“What’s…what’s happening?” she asked.
The pack watched in fascination and she looked at Dominic who wasn’t watching the wound but Olivia instead. His jaw looked as if it had come nearly unhinged.
“Are…are you a healer?” he asked. Dominic’s eyes were wide in surprise and she was feeling the same as he looked.
Olivia had no clue if she was a healer or not. Being a healer was an extremely rare quality and she had never known she possessed the ability. But it seemed hard to deny as his wound ever so slowly continued to heal.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head in disbelief though the proof was right in from of her. “I guess I must be?”
They said a healer’s powers didn’t begin to show until there was a maturity in the healer, a strength that would allow her to pass on to others in order to help them. Maybe it was meeting Dominic and giving into her fate or maybe it had been the strength she needed to break away from the poachers, or even risk her life to save her father’s, but her soul had decided she was ready.
She may not be a shifter and that would never change, but Olivia knew now that no matter what, she belonged in this world.