DOMINIC'S POV
She winced. A sharp, quick little sound that twisted something in my gut. She was standing by her dresser, trying to reach back to the bandage on her shoulder. Her face showed frustration and pain. The bandage was a mess—peeling at the edges, a faint rusty stain in the center.
My wolf stirred. Hurt. Ours.
I'd looked at it yesterday, right after she stormed out of the council. None of us had checked it since. My fault. Too wrapped up in the bullshit, in the fallout, in my own head. I stood in her doorway, watching her struggle. The scent of her pain cut through the sweet omega scent that always clung to her now. It made my teeth ache.
I cleared my throat. She jumped, spinning around. Her eyes were wide, angry. Still mad. Good. Anger was better than fear.
"Can't reach it?"
