Richard
I watched the hallway long after the door closed behind me, long after her scent faded and the quiet sounds of her breathing cracked into sobs she thought I wouldn’t hear. My wolf paced furiously inside me, restless and near feral, urging me to turn around, to break the door down if I had to, to fix it with words or touch or whatever it took. But I couldn’t.
Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to walk away again.
I made it halfway down the corridor before I stopped, one hand pressed against the wall, bracing myself like the ground was shifting under me. My chest felt too tight. I couldn’t draw a clean breath. It was like coming off the battlefield, only worse. Because I didn’t get to count my wounds this time. I didn’t get to tally the damage.
Because she was the damage.
And
