JAXON
I woke up in pain.
Every breath sent fire through my ribs. My shoulder was wrapped in bandages that were already seeping blood. The cut on my forehead had been stitched, pulling tight every time I moved.
But worse than the physical pain was the memory.
Isla’s face. Her terror. The feel of her struggling beneath me.
What I’d tried to do.
The door opened and Beta Marcus entered, his expression carefully neutral.
“Alpha,” he said quietly. “The healers say you’ll be bedridden for at least two weeks. Your ribs need time to heal, and your shoulder was dislocated.”
Two weeks. Two weeks of being weak and vulnerable while the Seven decided my fate.
“Has there been word?” I asked hoarsely. “From the council?”
Marcus’ jaw tightened. “The Seven have called an emergency session. You’r
