Sinclair
I roar as I stumble through the doors of the hospital, my bleeding mate clutched in my arms.
Everyone in the emergency room freezes - doctors, nurses, patients. Everyone. The noise that comes from me is unending, a demand, a plea, a threat. I am halfway between states now – my eyes filled with the wolf’s flame, my hands ending in razor-sharp claws.
She breathes against my chest, barely. Blood drips from her.
The bond – I can barely feel it, between she and I –
And my child –
I take a breath, then, glaring around the room, and open my mouth to shout again. “DOCTOR,” I cry. “Get me a doctor! NOW!”
The room collectively jumps at this, patients clearing away from the desk and heading towards the sides of the room, the nurses leaping to their feet. A doctor strides forward
