Mason's POV
The hospital parking lot was bustling with activity as I pulled up, carefully maneuvering my father's wheelchair out of the car. My father, once a towering figure of strength and authority, now looked frail and diminished in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Margot hovered nearby, her face a mask of concern that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" she asked, her voice syrupy sweet. "I could help with the paperwork."
I shook my head, forcing a smile. "No, it's fine. You should head back to the pack house. There's always work to be done."
As Margot drove away, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease growing in the pit of my stomach. Something felt off, but I couldn't grasp what it was.
"Let's get this over with," my father grumbled
