Bram sprinted toward her, Gahn right on his heels.
He hit the ground, hands already moving over her as the pack stood frozen.
“She’s not breathing,” Bram said, voice tight. “Gahn, get the EpiPen from my office. Now.”
His palms pressed hard against her chest, the rhythm quick and urgent.
Dahlia, a voice called out to her.
“Daddy?” she said, sprinting toward him, her tiny arms wrapping around his waist.
“What do you do now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing, I swear!” she protested, pulling back to look up at him.
“Where’s Mommy?” she asked, glancing around.
“She’s upset,” her dad said quietly.
“Why?” Dahlia reached up, her small hand brushing his cheek.
“Because I messed up,” he admitted.
“Say sorry, Daddy. Say sorry!” she insisted, tugging at his sleeve. “Daddy?”
Her eye
