Derek’s pov
The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nostrils as I paced outside Damon's room. The white walls of the pack house medical wing felt like they were closing in on me. Three days since some asshole tried to put a bullet in my Alpha's chest, and I was still seething.
Gregory approached with two cups of coffee, dark circles under his eyes matching mine. "You look like s**t," he said, handing me a cup.
"Right back at you, old man." I took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. "This coffee tastes like someone burned a tire and strained it through a dirty sock."
"Best I could do at 4 AM." Gregory leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes. "Elena says he's stable. Wolfsbane's clearing his system."
I glanced through the small window at Damon's still form. Kira was curled up in a c
