BRETT P.O.V.
Earlier ...
The sterile walls of the hospital holds an air of quiet desperation, one I’ve grown accustomed to. Each day that passes I feel like a ghost of my former self, haunted by memories of joy that vaporized as swiftly as water on skin. Even Axel, my wolf, has succumbed to an unrelenting sadness, a stark counter to his usually exuberant spirit.
My days blend into each other, punctuated by the sounds of the hospital. The quiet beep of machines, the occasional murmur of nurses discussing their shifts, the distant wails of families awaiting news, all have formed the soundtrack of my life. Love and laughter now seem as distant as a fading star.
Brett, something is happening!
What are you talking about, Axel? The hospital is quiet.
I reply to him. I began searching aroun
