*Lyra*
Every small movement I make sends a sharp ache through my ribs. The scratch from Villie’s claws still burns, a slow, pulsing throb that shouldn’t even exist anymore.
Bram notices too, and as he carefully peels the bandage back, the air hits the raw skin, and I flinch, biting my lip. His jaw tightens, and I see worry on his face. “It’s worse,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing at the wound.
“It shouldn’t be,” I say. My voice sounds too loud in this empty house. “It should be healed by now. I’m a shifter for Goddess’s sake.”
“Something’s holding it back.” His gaze is still fixed on the injury.
He traces the skin just above the cut, and his touch sends an electric jolt through me. I feel my wolf stir restlessly, not from pain, but from being near Bram.
“Hold still,” he says, b
