Dorgan
The walk down the hall is painfully awkward. My brain, usually so sharp and quick, feels like it has been wiped clean. I'm an alpha. A leader. I can negotiate treaties, rally armies, and outsmart enemies. But I can't think of one good thing to say to the girl next to me.
Pathetic.
"Uh, Dorgan?" her soft, lyrical voice floats up behind me. "Mind if we slow down a bit?"
Oh, great. I look back and realize I'm practically dragging her outside.
I immediately slow my strides, guilt hitting me square in the chest. "I'm sorry," I say, raking a hand through my hair. "I just... needed to get out in the open."
It's a weak excuse. And judging by the amused glint in her eyes, she knows it too.
"So this used to all be a hospital of sorts?" Sasha asks as we step outside.
The tension bleeds
