#Chapter 82: The Only Cure is Death

Rowena

I hovered anxiously over the warrior’s bedside, my teeth gnawing at my bottom lip as I watched him strain against the thick leather restraints binding him to the cot. A thin sheen of sweat glistened across his brow, his eyes wild and glazed as he thrashed around—growls and snarls ripping from his throat like a feral animal.

He had been sedated, which reduced his fury immensely. I wondered what it would be like if he hadn’t been.

“God,” Eric muttered from somewhere behind me, low and full of worry. “He’s... he’s completely gone, isn’t he?”

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the pen I held as I watched a thin line of white foam dribble from the corner of the warrior’s mouth. This was bad—so, so bad. The Wolf’s Fury virus had progressed so quickly, far more quickly than I could have imagined. Just minutes ago, he had seemed relatively coherent save for his unfocused gaze and jerky movements. Now…

Now he was practically feral, utterly detached from his humanity.

A shudder