CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The sterile scent of antiseptic clings to the air, almost masking the coppery undertones that always accompany an infirmary. I sit beside Finnic's bed, my fingers entwined with his, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor has become a strange sort of comfort in the chaos of our lives.
"Skye," Finnic's voice is a hoarse whisper, but it pulls me from the haze of my thoughts. "You need to leave."
Before I can answer, a distant howl shivers through the silence, followed by another, and another—a discordant symphony of aggression and hunger. Rogue wolf calls. They are close, too close. My heart hammers against my ribs, not just in fear, but with a resolve as hard as the iron in the name of this place.
"Go, Skye. Get to safety. Wa
