The pack house is quiet when I leave. Too quiet.
The echoes of laughter from two nights ago still cling faintly to the walls, but they feel distant now... like something that belonged to a different version of me. A version that could stand in a room full of people and believe, even for a moment, that things might be okay.
Now, it’s just… routine again.
Hospital.
Rosalie.
Back and forth between breaths and silence.
And Posy... my chest tightens as I glance down at her, bundled carefully in my arms. She shouldn’t be here. Not like this. Not always surrounded by the smell of antiseptic, the low hum of machines, the constant tension that never really leaves my body anymore.
“She needs more,” I mutter under my breath.
My wolf agrees. Softly. Firmly.
Not a growl. Not a warning. Just… t
