Elijah's face was unreadable as he strode down the long corridor of the hospital wing. The air around him was cold, his presence enough to make every werewolf step aside and bow their heads.
Their fear fed something inside him. Power. It was more intoxicating than any drink. The future of their kind was in his hands, and everyone knew it.
He reached the last private ward and opened the door without knocking.
Inside, Luna Zara lay propped up on crisp sheets, her pale hair spilling across the pillow. Two doctors hovered nearby with one checking her monitors, while the other quietly asked about her pain level.
They both froze as soon as Elijah entered, the air shifting immediately as the intensity of his aura pressed down on them.
Zara turned her head last, slowly and unbothered, her features impassive.
Elijah clasped his hands behind his back and said dryly, "Congratulations on returning from the dead, Luna Zara."
