Chapter 17: Connections
The hospital smells like antiseptic and bad coffee.
Rebecca gave me a volunteer badge—said I could help with filing in the long-term care wing. A good deed. Community service hours for college applications.
Really, it's reconnaissance.
Peter Hale is in room 304. Long-term care. Comatose for six years. Burned beyond recognition in the Hale fire.
Except my Haki is screaming before I even open the door.
Awake. Aware. DANGEROUS.
I push through anyway. The room is dim—curtains half-drawn, machines beeping steadily. The figure in the bed is barely human. Burned skin stretched tight over bone. Bandages covering most of his face. IVs running into both arms.
My Haki explodes.
The emotional signature is overwhelming—rage like molten lava, intelligence sharp as broken glass, and underneath it all, predatory awareness. This isn't a comatose patient. This is a hunter pretending to be prey.
Peter Hale is awake. Has been for months. Maybe longer.
And he's listening.
My nose starts bleeding immediately. I stumble back, catching myself on the doorframe. The room tilts. My vision swims.
Get out. Now.
I turn and walk—fast but not running. Can't draw attention. Can't let anyone know I just discovered the Alpha is lying in a hospital bed, pretending to be helpless.
I make it to the bathroom. Lock the door. Collapse against the wall.
Blood pours from my nose. I grab paper towels, press them to my face. The Haki feedback is too much. Peter's presence was like standing next to the sun—overwhelming, burning, impossible to process.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone.
Derek. Peter's awake. He's the Alpha.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Derek: Are you sure?
Yes. My abilities don't lie. He's been conscious this whole time.
Derek: Fuck.
We need a plan.
Derek: Working on it. Stay away from him.
I pocket the phone and focus on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Peter Hale. The Alpha. Broken and burning for revenge. Everything clicks into place—the attacks, the pattern, the connection to the fire.
He's not building a pack. He's building an army to destroy Kate Argent.
And he's using Scott as a weapon.
The hospital cafeteria is busy during lunch rush.
Rebecca is sitting with Melissa McCall at a corner table, both in scrubs, picking at salads that look depressing even by hospital standards.
I hang back, Haki extended just enough to eavesdrop on their emotional signatures.
Concern. Worry. Frustration.
They're talking about us. About Scott and me.
"He's obsessed with that Argent girl," Melissa says. "I barely see him anymore. When I do, he's distracted. Secretive."
Rebecca nods. "Adam's the same. Exhausted all the time. Eating constantly but losing weight. And his injuries—"
"Injuries?"
"He came home with scratches last month. Deep ones. They healed so fast I thought I imagined them." Rebecca sets down her fork. "I'm a doctor, Melissa. I know what normal healing looks like. That wasn't normal."
Melissa is quiet for a moment. "Scott's been strange too. Stronger. Faster. He made first line, but it's like he's... different."
"You think they're in trouble?"
"I think they're hiding something. Something big."
They sit in silence, two mothers trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.
"We should coordinate," Rebecca says finally. "Share information. Cover for them when necessary. Because whatever they're involved in, they're not going to tell us the truth."
Melissa smiles. "The Mom Alliance."
"Unofficial. And probably illegal."
"The best alliances always are."
They laugh. But underneath, their worry is palpable through my Haki.
They're getting close. Too close.
I slip away before they notice me watching.
Chemistry class the next day is a disaster.
I'm running on three hours of sleep. Peter's presence yesterday drained me more than I realized. My Haki is barely functional—range reduced to ten feet, feedback coming in distorted waves.
The exhaustion is cumulative. Weeks of overuse catching up all at once.
Mr. Harris is droning about molecular bonds when my vision doubles.
I blink. Try to focus. The board blurs into incomprehensible shapes.
Not now. Stay conscious.
I try to stand—need air, need water, need something—but my legs won't cooperate.
The floor rushes up.
Scott catches me before I hit the ground. His arms are steady, his Haki signature spiking with concern.
"Adam? ADAM!"
Darkness creeps in from the edges. Voices echo—distant, distorted.
"Someone get the nurse!"
"Is he having a seizure?"
"Give him space!"
Then nothing.
The nurse's office smells like Band-Aids and hand sanitizer.
I wake up on the cot, fluorescent lights too bright overhead. Rebecca is there, stethoscope around her neck, taking my vitals with the focused intensity of a doctor examining a mystery patient.
Coach is in the corner, arms crossed, looking ten years older.
"When's the last time you slept?" Rebecca asks.
"Last night."
"How many hours?"
"Three. Maybe."
"And the night before?"
I don't answer.
She pulls out a blood pressure cuff. Wraps it around my arm. The numbers make her frown.
"Low blood sugar. Dehydration. Exhaustion." She meets my eyes. "You're running yourself into the ground, Adam. Whatever you're doing, it's killing you."
"I'm fine."
Coach barks a laugh. "You passed out in chemistry class. That's not FINE."
"It was just—"
"Don't." His voice is sharp. Final. "Don't lie to me. Not about this."
Rebecca finishes her examination. "You're taking two days off school. No arguments. You're going to sleep, eat, and do nothing else."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can." She packs up her supplies. "Coach will make sure you follow orders."
Coach nods. "Damn right I will."
They leave me in the office for observation. Twenty minutes later, Coach drives me home in silence.
At the house, he points at the stairs. "Bed. Now."
"Coach—"
"The thing you're doing—whatever it is—it's killing you. And I'm not going to let that happen."
"People need me."
"And you're MY kid." His voice cracks. Just slightly. "So don't make me bury you."
My kid.
First time he's said it. First time it's felt real.
My throat tightens. "Okay."
I go upstairs. Collapse into bed fully clothed.
Within minutes, sleep drags me under.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0