Adeline’s POV
The patient’s body was cold with blood loss but hot with infection. His skin burned beneath my gloves as I worked, sweat prickling behind my mask. The room stank of metal and antiseptic—blood and bleach fighting for air.
Monitors beeped steady, tauntingly calm. The sound of my own breathing filled the space between them. Every second I stitched was a war against the past.
Dr. Han steadied the retractor beside me, his brow furrowed. “These wounds…” His voice trailed off, then sharpened. “Adeline, you’ve seen this before. This isn’t a knife. Not claws either. They look like…”
“A wild beast,” I cut in, too fast. My tone snapped sharper than the scalpel in my hand. “Maybe a wolf-dog. We’ll know when he wakes.”
Han frowned. “Wild beasts don’t leave marks this clean.”
My fing
