Lyra was pissed.
She paced around her brother’s recovery room, her fists clenched tightly beside her, her eyes narrowed as she scrunched her nose.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
Lyra’s gaze was focused entirely on one thing and one thing only.
Her brother's limp, broken body.
Ronan lay crumbled in a cot, unconscious with slowly healing bones.
That was the problem. That was why she was pacing around.
He should have woken up by now.
Ronan might not have been an alpha, but he was an offspring of one. All of his bones should have healed hours ago.
They were all healing, but they were healing almost as slowly as a human would.
Whatever had hurt her brother had made sure that he was going to stay hurt.
She knew why he got hurt, she just didn’t know by whom, or how?
