Elaine moved before anyone else could react.
One heartbeat she stood by the door, the next she was at Michael’s bedside, her hand pressed firmly to his chest as his wolf thrashed beneath his skin. Her wolf howled inside her, calling out not in dominance, not in challenge, but in recognition — the kind carved by a bond torn apart but never forgotten.
“Kath—stay back,” Elaine commanded sharply, voice trembling even as she held firm. “His wolf isn’t seeing us. He’s seeing memory.”
Michael’s body jerked again, breath ragged, eyes glowing with a feral yellow light that flickered like a fire dying on wet wood.
Elaine leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper, a tone meant for wolves in the brink of collapse.
“Michael… listen to me.”
His head snapped toward her, though his eyes did
