Lucian
A constant beeping pulled me from the darkness.
My body ached in places I couldn’t name. My bones felt like they were slowly snapping themselves back together. My eyelids were heavy, but I fought through it. Everything was blurry. Bright. Disorienting.
A light glared down from above, and something was lodged in my throat. I gagged, panicking.
“Alpha Lucian… Alpha Lucian,” a woman’s voice called through the haze. She wore a nose mask and scrubs. She leaned over and gently reached toward my face.
Then came the tug.
I choked as she pulled out a breathing tube. My lungs expanded on instinct, and then—like floodgates—the memories came rushing in.
The car.
The bullets.
The truck.
“Mara,” I rasped, my voice raw.
“Alpha, please,” the nurse tried to calm me, placing a firm hand on
