Damien’s POV
I heard her coming. Not her footsteps — the ward was carpeted and she moved quietly anyway, always had, the particular light-footed quality of someone who'd spent years going around spaces where noise was a problem. What I heard was the change in the corridor. The subtle shift of air pressure that meant a door had opened somewhere. The slight difference in the quality of the silence. My wolf had been tracking her movements through this building for twenty days without my permission. By now he knew her schedule better than I did.
It was past midnight. She should have gone home four hours ago. I was sitting up when she appeared in the doorway. She had her arms crossed — not defensive, just contained, the way she held herself when she was keeping something inside a shape she co
