I was too dazed to process everything.
One moment we were in the woods, surrounded by blood and grief, and the next, the harsh fluorescent lights of the Pack clinic stung my eyes. I barely registered the soft rhythm of Orion’s footsteps or the scent of antiseptic that clung heavily to the air.
My body was limp in his arms. Aria was still unconscious in Klaus’s embrace, her face pale, her pulse frighteningly weak.
The next thing I heard was Uncle Zion shouting—no, roaring—at a trembling young nurse who stood between us and the ward.
“She needs to be taken to the ER first,” she insisted. “We need to—”
“She’s not going to the ER,” Zion growled, his voice like thunder. “Bring the doctor to the ward. Now. Or I’ll tear this place apart with my bare hands.”
The nurse’s face turned ghostly w
