Three days. That’s how long they kept her here. Three days of white sheets, cold IV drips, and the low hum of medical machines that made her feel like she was trapped between worlds — neither fully in the human realm nor in the werewolf one where her body belonged.
Nurses moved in and out with clipped smiles, checking vitals, adjusting the IV line in her arm, scribbling notes on a chart. She hated it—the way she felt trapped, the way Irene seemed quieter in her mind, as though even her wolf was conserving energy.
Daniel didn’t visit the way most people would. He never lingered. He came in without knocking, his suits sharp enough to cut glass, his presence filling the space even when he said almost nothing. Sometimes he would stand at the foot of her bed, his gaze flicking over her like h
