Damon's POV
One week. One damn week since Andrea drove that cursed black blade into me, and the pain still hasn’t let up. Hell, it’s worse. It’s like it’s sinking deeper into my chest, clawing at my insides. Every healer, every damn doctor I’ve called—they don’t know s**t. They poke around, scratch their heads, and leave like it’s not their problem. But it is mine.
And only I know how bad it’s gotten. I can feel it, eating away at me, making me weaker. My body’s failing me, and that’s not something I’ve ever said in my life. It doesn’t make sense unless… unless it’s magic.
This is the last thing I need right now. How am I supposed to protect my pack when I’m getting weaker every damn day? And with this curse hanging over me, it’s like the moon goddess is pissed at me for failing to pro
