The packhouse looked like a triage center had collided with a family reunion and somehow produced something functional. Wounded wolves sprawled across every available surface while Dr. Chen and Dr. Michaels moved between them with the efficient grace of those who'd seen too many battles. The less injured helped where they could, bringing water, holding bandages, or simply offering a hand to grip when the healing hurt too much.
I stood in the doorway, swaying slightly, trying to catalogue who needed what. My Luna instincts screamed to help everyone immediately, but my body had other ideas. Every muscle ached, my energy reserves were beyond depleted, and I was pretty sure I'd fractured at least two ribs somewhere between throwing grenades and being thrown by my mate.
"You're dripping blood
