The hospital hallway was too quiet.
Caroline paced outside Bryant's room, arms folded, footsteps sharp against the cold tile. Every beep from the monitor inside made her heart hitch.
A nurse passed. “Miss Taylor, he's stable. The wound missed all vital organs."
“Then why hasn't he woken up?" Her voice cracked.
“Shock. Blood loss. But he's strong. He'll pull through."
The nurse moved on.
Caroline stared through the glass.
Bryant lay still, wrapped in gauze, jaw tight even in unconsciousness.
Her father's voice startled her.
“Caroline."
Alpha Taylor stood behind her, holding a small velvet pouch.
“I brought this from the scene. The investigators found it under the console."
She opened it. A silver bracelet—broken. Bent, bloodstained.
The one she'd worn every day. Until the fall.
