“Of course,” I say.
He nods and leaves the room, and I feel my mates let out a collective exhale. Villeneuve saved our asses back there, but he did so by incinerating a fucking werewolf in a single breath.
And they still don’t know the half of it.
Sean is the worst off after Killian. I cross to him, taking in the damage up close for the first time. The left side of his face is so bloody I can’t even tell where the injuries are.
Proof of just what damage a werewolf’s claws can do.
“I’m fine,” he says immediately.
“Sit.”
“Storm—”
“Sit. Down.”
He does, though not without grumbling. “You’re hot when you’re bossy.”
But I can hear the fear underneath the joke. Feel it through our bond. He knows this isn’t good for Killian. He has to know.
I find a clean cloth and a vial of antiseptic solution. At least, I think that’s what it is. The symbols on the label are alchemical, not witchcraft, but the smell is familiar. I pour it onto the cloth.
“That’s not gonna turn me into a newt, is it?” Sean eyes the liquid warily.
“Only if you don’t hold still.”
I bring the cloth to his face, and he flinches like he’s bracing himself for what I’m about to discover.
It’s worse than I thought.
His eye is completely gone. The werewolf’s claws carved a path directly through it, and there’s nothing left to save. The socket is a mess of torn tissue and dried blood, and even with an alpha wolf’s healing factor and magic, there’s no way to regenerate what’s been so thoroughly destroyed.
I clean the wound as gently as I can, pouring magic into the tissue to prevent infection, to encourage healing.
But I can’t bring back what’s lost.
“Probably gonna need a sexy eyepatch, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a thin smile. “Think I could rock the pirate look?”
“You need to go to the hospital,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady through sheer force of will. “The one off campus.”
“Fuck that.” Sean’s good eye meets mine, fierce and stubborn. “I’m not leaving you and Killian unprotected in this creepy Dracula lair.”
“More like dragon lair,” Micah mutters from across the room.
Sean’s good eye lights up. “Okay, are we gonna talk about the fact that Villeneuve is a fucking?—”
“Right now, we’re not talking about anything,” I cut him off. My hands are still on his face, still working. “Hospital. Now. You need real medical care. I can do basic first aid, but this is beyond what I can fix.”
“I don’t give a shit about my eye, Regina.” His voice is raw. “Killian?—”
“Will still be here when you get back. I’ll be here with him.” I pull back, meeting his gaze. “Rowan goes with you. Micah stays. We’ll figure out the rest when you’re not actively bleeding from the face.”
Sean looks like he wants to argue. I sense his resistance, the desperate need to stay close to his packmates, to protect what’s left.
But he can also feel my insistence.
And underneath that, my fear.
