The air in the room was thick, heavy with the smell of blood and something else… fear. His fear. It clung to Mark like a blanket almost as suffocating as the guilt I felt for even thinking what was on my mind but for minutes the guilt was a distant whisper. all I felt was a cold, hard purpose.
Mark lay on the bed, his breathing shallow and ragged. Griffin's attack had left him weak, vulnerable. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by a flicker of panic in his eyes. Good. He deserved to be scared.
His wounds were too much for his wolf to heal him immediately so he was stuck and weak
I walked closer, the floorboards creaking under my feet. He flinched.
"Leila," he rasped, his voice weak. "What… what are you doing?"
I didn’t answer. I just stood there, looking down at him. Really looki
