"Old council stuff," Kade said finally.
Something cold touched my spine. "What kind of programs?"
Another exchanged look. This time, Rae intervened.
"Not tonight," she said firmly. "Whatever it is, it can wait until you're not about to fall asleep in your dinner plate."
She wasn't wrong. The warmth of the house, the fullness of my stomach, the wine — all of it was hitting me at once. I was tired in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. Tired in my bones.
"Stay," Rae said. "The guest room is made up. You can go back to the Healing Center in the morning."
"Stone—"
"Will survive one night without you." Her voice was gentle but firm. "Neal is monitoring. If anything changes, he'll call. But you need sleep. Real sleep, not the three-hour naps you've been taking in that observation room."
I wanted to argue. But Alexandra had climbed into my lap and was doing her very slow blink thing — the one she did right before she fell asleep. Her weight was warm and solid against my chest.
"Okay," I heard myself say. "One night."
Chapter seventeen
For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The bed was too soft. Then memory filtered back — Rae's house, the guest room, the first deep sleep I'd had in weeks, but I still woke before dawn.
My mind was already racing, counting down the days we had left to prove that five ferals could recover. That Stone could heal. That everything I'd risked was worth it.
The anxiety sat in my chest like a physical weight. I stared at the ceiling and tried to breathe through it, but the pressure only grew. The bond with Stone pulsed at the edge of my awareness — distant, restless. He wasn't sleeping either.
Neither of us ever seemed to sleep anymore.
I slipped out of bed. Dressed quietly in the dark. The cafeteria wouldn't open for another two hours, but I couldn't stay here. Couldn't lie still while the clock ticked down.
Stone's room. I'd study there. At least then I'd be doing something useful.
The Healing Center was quiet at this hour.
Just the hum of equipment, the soft footsteps of night staff finishing their rounds. I signed in at the front desk — Margaret raised an eyebrow at the hour but didn't comment — and made my way toward the isolation wing.
The observation room door was unlocked, as always.
I pushed it open and stopped.
A bed.
There was a twin bed against the wall, tucked into the corner next to my usual chair. Simple — metal frame, white sheets, a thin pillow. But unmistakably a bed. Someone had put it there. Recently, from the crisp look of the linens.
I stared at it, confused.
Behind the barrier, Stone lifted his head. He'd been lying down — but he was alert now, watching me with those gold eyes that missed nothing.
"I didn't—" I started.
The door opened behind me.
I spun.
Neal stood in the doorway, a tray balanced in his hands. On it: a bowl of oatmeal topped with blueberries, a steaming cup of coffee, a napkin with a spoon.
He looked exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, his hair uncombed, his white coat wrinkled like he'd slept in it. But his gaze was sharp as it swept over me — assessing, cataloging, seeing everything I'd tried to hide.
