And it's not like this is the first time Drake has been in danger. He's an Alpha. He fights. He's been injured before, been in life-threatening situations. So why did I feel it yesterday? What made last night different?
Thoughts consume me, almost blinding me from the crowd gathering near the hospital room. Some hold placards with messages like "Thank you for saving our Alpha!" and "Our hero!"
Others carry flowers—huge, elaborate bouquets that must have cost a fortune. Still others have wrapped gifts, stuffed animals, boxes of chocolates. A group near the front is singing. Actually singing. Praising Rosa for her bravery, for her sacrifice, for saving Drake's life.
"She's the true Luna!" someone calls out, and others echo the sentiment.
"The real Luna!"
"She's proven herself!"
"Rosa
