Alec
I stood by the glass of the infirmary, watching the healers work on her. They were moving too fast. That was always a bad sign.
"Pressure!" one of them shouted.
Then I heard the sound from the room. A long, continuous beep.
The healers stopped moving. They looked at each other, then at me.
That's it. My key was gone. The contract, the heir, the Shadow Tomb. Everything would be turning to ash because a nineteen-year-old girl decided the woods were safer than my arms.
"Out." I said, my voice dangerously quiet as I pushed past the healers and into the room.
"Alpha, there's nothing more we—"
"I said OUT!"
I looked at the girl on the bed. Skylar. She looked so small. Her skin was the color of paper. The red dress was cut open, showing the ugly wound on her shoulder. It was not moving. Her chest was not moving. The feeling in my gut that connected me to her, it felt empty.
But I refused. I am Alec Black-Stone. I do not lose.
"Ivan," I commanded. "Get Magda."
