Not the claws that erupted from her fingers when Gale had his hands around her throat, impossible claws that omegas aren’t supposed to have.
What are you? What the f**k are you?
“Leave us.” Nathaniel’s voice is flat, commanding, the tone he uses when he’s not in the mood for arguments. The doctor opens his mouth to protest and Nathaniel cuts him off with a look that could freeze lava. “Now.”
The doctor leaves. The door clicks shut behind him.
And suddenly it’s just me and Nathaniel in this room that smells like antiseptic and blood, with too much silence and too many questions hanging between us.
I manage to drag myself into a sitting position, ignoring the way my muscles scream and my head pounds and my vision swims at the edges.
The memories are coming back in fragments now, broken
