MINA
I stayed close, my hands hovering over him. The halls blurred past us as he was wheeled out of the hospital. Someone said something about the hospital wing still being under renovation. Someone else explained, hurriedly, that they couldn’t properly treat werewolves here yet.
I barely heard any of it.
He was awake, but he looked too pale. His lips had lost that infuriatingly smug curve they usually held, and the color had drained from his face. Still, his eyes were open—half-lidded, unfocused at times, but open.
A healer witch had appeared out of nowhere earlier, muttering under her breath, hands glowing faintly as she pressed them against his side. She detoxified him only enough to buy time.
However, it wasn’t enough to make him okay.
Since the hospital was still being built
