LYRA POV
The hospital doors opened with a soft whoosh, and the icy breath of the Winter Pack’s wilderness swept over us. I shivered, more from nerves than from cold.
Snowflakes drifted lazily from a slate-gray sky, melting the moment they kissed my skin. I tugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders and stepped forward into the crisp air, my boots crunching against the packed snow.
And he was right beside me.
Hunter.
His large frame was quiet now, guarded. His movements were careful, almost mechanical, like he was afraid to break something—maybe me, maybe himself.
Gods, his silence was worse than any wound.
I could feel the weight of his pain pressing against the bond, thick and cloying. Not demanding, not angry. Just… aching. Aching in that quiet, patient way that made my throat
