Nash’s pov
The heavy wooden door of the border command hut slammed open, bouncing off the timber wall with a sharp crash.
"Alpha, sit back down!" Doctor Luther barked, dropping a tray of silver shears and blood-soaked linen onto the wooden table. "Your back is torn to the bone! The lashes split wide open during the raid. If I don't stitch these wounds right now, you'll bleed out before nightfall!"
"Touch me with those needles again, Luther, and I'll break your hand," I growled.
I shoved the old physician aside, ignoring the violent, searing spike of agony that shot straight up my spine. Cold sweat dripped down my jaw, my skin ash-pale, my chest heaving in shallow, labored gasps as my body fought the brutal crash of the full moon fever.
I didn't care about the blood dripping down my ba
