Chapter 257: Blood On My Hands
"They what?" Damon barked out, drawing back in surprise. A familiar anger churned within me, and I knew it could only have come from Damon. "Harper, why didn’t you tell me? Damn it, even if you didn’t want to tell me, you could have told Blaise at the very least!"
"I’m sorry," I hung my head, too ashamed to meet Damon’s eyes. "I should have told you this earlier, but I was... stupid. I thought... I could handle it on my own."
The frown on Damon’s face merely deepened as he shook his head. He clenched his fists, the veins at the back of his hands turning more and more obvious the harder he squeezed.
"Alpha..." Nicole trailed off warningly, her eyebrows furrowing as she watched Damon’s reaction. "Harper is still recovering."
"What has that got to do with anything?" He snapped at her, his face turning as red as a tomato with all the suppressed anger rising to the surface. I could practically see the steam coming out from his ears, forcing me to worm deeper into the blankets.
"It has everything to do with this," Nicole calmly replied. "It means that you ought to be more patient with her."
"She wasn’t unwell when she decided to keep this information from us," Damon retorted. "One month. It had been a month since we returned from the Forest of Selene. Do you have any clue how many things could’ve gone wrong during that time? Or how many things did?!"
"I didn’t know how to tell you!" I blurted out. "This isn’t exactly something small like what we’re eating for lunch. How was I to know that the Oracles weren’t lying to me? Besides... I thought I could handle it."
Hindsight was always twenty-twenty. How was I to guess that they would use arson as a tactic?
And now, I had the blood of these innocent werewolves on my hands.
"Because the Oracles would never lie, let alone about something this important! You should know this even if you don’t have a wolf!" Damon yelled out, easily tearing through my pathetically weak excuses.
I thought that would be the end of it, but Damon wasn’t done. He began to rant.
"And it’s precisely because it’s a difficult situation that you’re supposed to share it with us, Harper. The Moon Goddess practically gave us a huge hint to avoid this tragedy, only for you to turn a deaf ear. Blaise and I kept on asking if you had anything to tell us, and you didn’t say a single word?"
Damon was nearly tearing his hair out in frustration, and I didn’t have the nerve to look him in the eye.
"Fuck. This thing could have been mitigated if you had just told―" Damon groaned, cutting himself off in frustration.
Nicole had to shush him hurriedly.
"Damon, the infirmary is full of injured wolves. Keep your voice down," Nicole chided, her eyes darting to other beds. There were no walls within the infirmary, and Damon’s voice easily carried over to the other injured werewolves. They were too polite to blatantly stare at us, but I had no doubt they were eavesdropping on our conversation.
I swallowed the bile in my throat. "Do you blame me for their deaths?" I quietly asked.
Damon paused for a long, tense moment. "Would it change things if I did? They’re still dead."
I flinched. Damon said those words evenly, but he might as well have slapped me in the face. I chanced a quick look and was struck dumb by the disappointment in his eyes, mirroring the feeling that ran through my entire body.
Damon stared at me as though I was a different person― a stranger. He had never stared at me so dispassionately ever since I had known him. Suddenly I feared that my decision might have ruined things between us for good.
"It’s alright, Damon, feel free to blame me," I said bitterly. "I blame myself enough. This whole mess originated because I was in Fangborne, to begin with. And it’s because I didn’t share that your wolves are..." I trailed off with a sigh.
"Kyle and his friends were right after all. I’m sorry, Damon. I should’ve thought this through. Maybe I should leave Fangborne temporarily until this mess is sorted out. I can’t put Fangborne into any more danger than I already have."
Damon pursed his lips, chewing down hard before he shook his head.
"No chance in hell. Even if you had told us the truth, we would’ve never let you go anywhere," Damon said. "You’re safest here in Fangborne where Blaise and I can watch over you. Regardless of whether or not you said anything, their attacks would’ve continued for as long as you’re here."
But they probably wouldn’t have had such a devastating impact. Damon didn’t need to say it, but I knew it.
Damon took a deep, drawn-out breath before continuing.
"I’m just... disappointed that you don’t trust us enough with this information," Damon said. I had a feeling disappointment was a massive understatement. "Or at least, I thought you trusted Blaise enough. He would’ve been able to make adequate preparations even without telling me every last detail."
"No, you’re right," I said. "I have no excuses for what I did. Is there anything I can do to help?"
I was willing to do whatever it took to make amends. There was no bringing back the dead, but perhaps I could still do something for the living― like doing inventory for the kitchen, taking notes, even writing condolence messages. I could do it all.
However, Nicole tutted pointedly.
"You have to rest," Nicole sharply said before Damon had the chance to open his mouth. Although, judging by his reaction, I doubt he would’ve given a different reply. "Right now, you are a patient. Your job is to rest and recover. Your wounds aren’t light and without a wolf, it will take you weeks to heal what’s considered a small scratch to werewolves."
My attention was drawn back to my arm, stiffly wrapped up in layers of gauze. It took me a while to remember why I needed this many bandages, and when I recalled the lines the vampire had left me, I winced.
"Yeah," Nicole said with a pitiful smile, "it’s not a pretty sight. Thankfully, we didn’t need to amputate your arm."
