Logan's POV
Silence surrounds me.
Early evening in the Pack's infirmary is akin to the hours before dawn at the Big House. Still and quiet. Peaceful.
Rowan's breathing is steady and measured now. His vitals are good. The medics say he'll live. That it would've been much worst if the bullet had stayed for longer and left fragments. They cleaned and stitched the wound before administering a mild sedative. Then they gave me an ice pack for my shoulder, told me I could sit with him for a while and left.
So I sit.
But I can't stop staring at my hands.
