Mortimer's POV
Why was she stuck in the same hell every time she closed her eyes?
That nightmare didn't just sound desperate—it sounded like pure, bone-deep resentment. Every time she screamed my name, Barton, my wolf, recoiled.
He was cowering in the back of my skull, terrified of what he was hearing.
The panic I'd been dragging around all week hit me again, full force.
I clamped my jaw shut so hard it ached.
The office was warm, but my blood felt like it was turning to slush.
I couldn't bring myself to just shake her awake. I held my breath, leaning in, arms out—I was going to lift her as gently as possible and move her to the cot.
But as I moved, my eyes caught the mess on her desk. Those pill bottles she hadn't cleared away.
I reached for them, needing to see the labels, when
