Magnus' POV
Magnus stirred, his eyelids heavy, his body aching from wounds that cut deep. The first sound he caught was the steady beep of a monitor. He blinked until the blur faded.
For a moment, he just lay there, listening to the soft hum of the machines. No voices. No footsteps. No family waiting at his side.
Of course not. There was no one left, after all.
His chest tightened, but he forced it down anyway. He'd learned to live that way for years. Since the night his pack was slaughtered, and he crawled out as the only one who survived.
That silence, this silence… it was almost the same.
So, he did what he always did. He just smiled despite everything.
It wasn't a wide smile, of course. Not when his heart was still so heavy.
But it was his way of telling everyone. The boyish grin he had carried through every scar and wound.
"I'm still fucking alive," he whispered to himself. "This world can't get rid of me that easily."
But then he thought of her little wolf.
Meredith…
