Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One-Chapter 38: Injured

Hailee’s POV

Panicked, I watched as Nathan brutally fought with warriors that were older and even more experienced than him. I could see his anger... his brutality... his strength... it was not shocking... Nathan was a good warrior... one of the best in our pack. Even at such a young age, he defeated warriors much older than him, but then fighting against four warriors was insane and especially since he wasn’t in his wolf form.

I gasped sharply as one of the warriors swung his blade and sliced across Nathan’s upper arm, deep and brutal. Blood spilled instantly, dark and hot, trailing down his skin like war paint. But Nathan didn’t even flinch. He twisted mid-motion, grabbed that same warrior by the throat, and with one solid punch to the gut and a swift elbow to the jaw, knocked him to the ground.

One down.

Three to go.

He turned back to the others, chest heaving. Rage burned in his eyes like fire. Another slash came—this time across his side. Another wound. Another gasp tore from my lips, my nails digging into the wall I was hiding behind.

Why wasn’t anyone stopping this?

Why was this still going on?

Just when I thought I’d scream, Beta Marcus’s voice finally rang out, cold and commanding from the edge of the field.

"Enough."

The remaining warriors stepped back immediately, panting and bruised, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and respect for Nathan.

Marcus raised a hand toward the healer who had been standing off to the side. "Heal him."

But before the healer could even approach, Nathan’s voice cut through the air—hoarse, low, furious.

"Don’t touch me."

He turned, his bloody hand raised in warning. The healer froze mid-step. Nathan spat to the side, wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and glared at Marcus.

"Is that all?" he snarled. "Or there is more?"

"Nathan, you know it not my fault... it was Alpha’s orders—" Marcus began, but Nathan didn’t let him finish.

"Tell my father he can go to hell."

Then he turned around, shoulders squared, back straight despite his wounds, and walked off the field—leaving bloodied footprints behind him.

Where I stood, I didn’t know what to do... I thought of leaving now that I was sure he wasn’t dead, but I was somehow worried... he was deeply injured and refused to let the healer heal him... I knew he had a wolf and his wolf will help heal him, but that will take time compared to that of the healer help... God, why is he so stubborn.

My head screamed at me to leave. To walk away but my heart...

My heart wouldn’t let me move.

I bit my lip hard, torn between common sense and the aching worry that burned in my chest.

You shouldn’t care this much, I told myself. He’s not your problem.

But I was already turning around. Already sneaking along the side of the building, slipping through the training grounds quietly so I won’t be caught... I knew the pack house well enough—especially the back entrances.

My footsteps barely made a sound as I crept in and made my way toward the hallway that led to the Alpha family’s quarters.

My heart was pounding.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But I was.

And no matter how many times I told myself to turn back, my feet kept moving.

Finally, I reached his door.

It was slightly ajar.

I paused outside, swallowing hard. For a moment, I thought about just peeking and leaving.

But then I heard a low, strangled grunt of pain from inside.

My hand moved before I could stop it.

I pushed the door open... and stepped inside.

Nathan was sitting at the edge of his bed, shirtless, blood still drying across his chest and arm. He was gripping a towel, pressing it roughly against one of the wounds, but it wasn’t helping. He was too shaky. Too angry. Too hurt.

He didn’t look up at first. Just muttered under his breath, "I said I don’t need a damn healer."

"I’m not a healer," I said softly.

His head snapped up.

His eyes locked on mine.

And for the first time since I’d known him... Nathan looked dumbfounded. Like he hadn’t expected anyone—least of all me.

"Hailee...?" he said, voice low and hoarse.

I stepped further in, closing the door behind me. "I saw what happened," I whispered.

He looked away immediately, his jaw tightening as he reached again for the towel.

I crossed the room slowly, my heart racing. "Let me help you," I said, pleading.

"Don’t," he muttered, refusing to meet my eyes. "I’m fine."

"You’re not," I snapped back, sharper now. "You’re bleeding. You can barely lift your arm. You’re not fine, Nathan."

He still didn’t look at me.

But he didn’t push me away either.

So I stepped closer.

And gently, without asking again, I knelt down in front of him, grabbed the towel from him, and dipped it in warm water from the bowl nearby.

Then I took his injured arm and began cleaning the blood.

He winced. Just a little.

But he didn’t stop me.

He just watched in silence. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time... like he was trying to figure out why I was really here.

Truth was... I didn’t know either. I just knew I couldn’t leave him like that.

I wrung out the towel slowly, wiping the blood from Nathan’s shoulder with careful hands. He didn’t speak, but I could feel the tension in him softening—just a little—as if my touch was pulling him back from whatever storm he’d been drowning in.

And then, his voice broke the silence.

Low. Rough. Sounding honest. "You make it hard, Hailee," he murmured.

I paused, confused. "What?"

He finally looked at me—really looked at me—and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

"The way you act... the way you care even when you try to pretend you don’t..." His voice was steady now, but there was something deeper in it. "It makes it hard to stay away from you."

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You’re making me fall harder," he added quietly, his eyes burning into mine. "Even when I know I shouldn’t."

My heart jumped to my throat. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I felt anymore.

But before I could form a single word, his gaze shifted sharply to the door. He stiffened.

"Someone’s coming," he said quickly, his voice low and urgent. "I can hear footsteps—far, but getting closer."

Panic shot through me.

"I have to hide!" I whispered, stepping back in alarm.

"No," he said, reaching for my wrist. "Just stay here."

But I was already moving. My pulse thundered in my ears as I darted across the room and slipped into the restroom, quietly shutting the door behind me. I turned the lock as gently as I could and pressed my back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.

From the other side of the door, I could hear faint footsteps outside Nathan’s room now. Someone had definitely arrived.

And I was suddenly very, very aware of how bad it would look if anyone found me here—alone with him, in his bedroom, while he was injured and half-naked.

I pressed a hand over my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.

God... what was I doing?

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