Happiness.
23.4M
Chapter 26
I glanced briefly at his hand, at the blood dripping from his palm, but there was no sympathy in me for his theatrics. My voice was calm when I finally spoke. “That amount of pain doesn’t even come close to what I felt when Oliver died.”
The room fell
lent. Nathan’s face twisted in a mixture of shock and something darker. His grip on the glass loosened as he took a step back, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked at me as if he didn’t recognize the woman lying in the hospital bed.
I could see the change in him then. Something inside him broke. The maniacal rage that
had consumed him moments ago began to dissipate, leaving only the hollow shell of a man who had lost far more than he could ever admit.
With no more words left to say, Nathan turned and walked out of the room. He didn’t slam. the door, didn’t make a scene as he left–he simply walked away, leaving the room colder than before.
Issca stayed by my side, silent, his eyes watching me carefully. He didn’t ask if I was alright: he knew better than to push me for words. Instead, he took a deep breath and helped the nurse finish dressing my wound, his movements careful and considerate. There was a tenderness in the way he handled me, but I couldn’t respond to it. Not yet.
I could feel his gaze linger on me longer than it should have, a warmth that seeped into the cold hospital room. I knew Issca had feelings for me, but I wasn’t ready for that. Not after everything. I couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved, not when I still had so many wounds left to heal, both inside and out.
Later, after the nurse had left, and the room had settled into an eerie quiet, I turned my attention to the TV again. The news was still running, reporting on the latest advancements in werewolf medicine. Lupine Therapeutics, they called it–a noble medical organization making breakthroughs in cytology and targeted medicines for werewolf immunodeficiency. A part of me wondered if this could have saved Oliver.
If these advancements had come sooner, maybe things would have been different. But that was a question I’d never have the answer to.
The hum of the television filled the room, but the images on the screen were a blur. My thoughts drifted back to Oliver, as they often did, a weight on my chest that never seemed. to lift. Oliver, with his bright smile and endless curiosity, was gone, taken from me by
something so insidious, so cruel–bone marrow cancer, a complication of werewolf immunodeficiency. If only the medical team working on the drug now had discovered it earlier… Would he still be here, filling this empty house with his laughter?
I closed my eyes, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill. You need to take care of yourself, Doris, my wolf’s voice whispered softly in my mind. He used to remind me of that when Oliver was around, always urging me to stay strong for him. But what was the point now? What was left for me to be strong for?
The sound of the door opening pulled me from my reverie. I glanced up as Issca stepped into the room, a tray in his hands. The scent of something savory wafted toward me, and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Issca had been hovering around me ever since Oliver passed,
trying to take care of me as if he could somehow fill the void that was left.
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hapter 1
