H A I L E Y
I bent and picked up my bag, forcing my hands not to tremble.
“You shouldn’t be here. You've been discharged.” I said tightly, all business.
“You shouldn’t be hiding,” he said right back.
My jaw clenched. “I’m not hiding. I’m living. There’s a difference.”
We stared at each other for a long, silent moment. His eyes searched mine. He looked like he had something more to say, but held it back.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then sighed. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Hailey.”
But it was too late for that.
Trouble came the moment he stumbled through my ER doors half dead with claw marks down his chest and a silver bullet lodged near his ribs. Trouble started the moment my colleagues couldn’t identify his species, couldn’t get a steady heartbeat, couldn’t stabil
