Kieran's POV
The cold sting of the needle in my arm barely registered anymore.
I sat there, on the metal chair beside her bed, unmoving, my arm tethered to hers by a thin, clear tube. My blood, the blood of an Ascended Lycan King, flowed slowly into her veins. A drip, a heartbeat, a lifeline.
Lorraine was still. Pale. The color had started to return to her cheeks, just slightly, but her body was fragile. Bones thinner than they'd ever looked. Skin bruised and bloodless. Her remaining arm trembled occasionally in response to the transfusion, but she hadn't stirred
She wasn't out of the woods yet.
Magnus said she was stable, that my blood was working. But "stable" felt like a lie. A temporary illusion to hold on to before the world shattered again.
She was still dying.
