Devon
Darkness.
It was the kind of black that felt thick, like a blanket soaked in oil pressing, suffocating. Then, light. A cold strip of fluorescent light sliced through my skull as I blinked my way back into consciousness.
I groaned. My body ached like I’d been dragged through gravel and thrown off a cliff. Every nerve buzzed with the echo of pain, but my wolf… he was quiet now. Subdued. Still there but muzzled, coiled in the dark.
My head lolled to the side. Marble met my cheek, cool, unforgiving.
Then I saw him.
Franco.
He was sitting on the floor beside me, back leaned against the pristine white tile of the bathroom wall, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. His brows furrowed in that way they always did when worry edged too close to panic.
