“He’ll be okay. Nothing life-threatening. He lost some blood and he’s covered in bruises, but he’s tough.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, brushing hair off Sean’s forehead. “He is.”
Sean was drowsy from the painkillers when he finally spoke again.
“Beau?”
“Right here,” I told him.
He reached for me again, and I let him drag my hand to his chest, over the bandages.
“I didn’t shift fast enough,” he whispered, voice thick and slow.
“You shifted when it mattered.” My voice broke, and I didn’t care. “You kept fighting. I’ve never been so proud.”
He smiled faintly. “You really would’ve killed him.”
“I almost did,” I said.
“But you didn’t.”
“You stopped me,” I told him.
His thumb rubbed my hand in slow, lazy circles. “I knew you’d come.”
That did something to me I couldn’t name. Split me open and stitched me back together in the same breath.
“I’ll always come for you,” I promised.
He drifted back to sleep after that, and I stayed beside him the entire night, watching and waiting.
SEAN
I woke to the smell of antiseptic and distant beeping. Bright, white walls surrounded me, and something soft crinkled under my arms as I shifted.
A hospital room?
My head throbbed like I’d headbutted a train. My ribs ached with every breath. I blinked groggily at the ceiling, confused, until the memories crashed over me like a wave.
The woods.
Vito’s snarling face. His claws. The sick thrill in his voice. Running, shifting, fighting. Beau?—
I turned my head, heart already pounding with panic, but it stopped as soon as I saw him.
Beau was there, slouched in the chair beside my hospital bed. His big frame looked too large for the furniture, limbs awkwardly folded in sleep.
His flannel shirt was wrinkled and streaked with dried blood and dirt. He had dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his jaw like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
But he was there.
And just seeing him, just knowing I was safe, made the tight knot of anxiety in my chest unwind.
As if he could sense I was awake, Beau stirred with a low grunt and rubbed his eyes. He blinked blearily at me, then smiled. That smile, the one that always made my pulse skip.
“Morning,” he said, voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I croaked, voice dry and hoarse.
