Thane
Tristan lies unmoving in his bed. Mom didn’t want him in the infirmary, not when he could be in his own bed. Tristan is bare-chested under the sheet covering his lower half, and he’s so pale he already looks dead. Dad lay Tristan on Starr’s pillow, hoping her scent would help wake him. So far, nothing.
I sit beside Tristan’s bed, holding his hand. All of our siblings, bar Esme, their mates, my mate, and grandparents are here. Dad took Mom to lie down. She isn’t coping with this at all, she’s a shadow of the woman she once was, and Goddess knows if she’ll come through this. Losing one child is bad enough, but two must be sheer torture on the soul.
“Trist, if you can hear me, I need you to wake up now. Shade? You have to release the hold. Mom needs Tristan here with us, not sleeping
