He grabbed a fresh, heavy compression wrap and began carefully re-wrapping my hand and wrist in tight, practiced crisscrosses. "I'm going to tell Drakon you can't do anything physical for at least a week, and then I'll re-check it."
Once he finished securing the wrap, Ian stepped over to the frosted glass doors and called out into the hall. "She's ready. Just be careful with her."
The burly guard stepped inside with a heavy huff, pulling a pair of steel cuffs from his belt. He unstrapped my arms from the examination table and immediately yanked them behind my back.
"Be careful with her wrist," Ian reiterated, his tone firm.
"Sure," the guard muttered dryly. But as soon as the cuffs clicked shut, he shoved me roughly toward the exit.
I stumbled past the clinic doors, but thanks to the
