Magnus' POV
That morning, the hall was too quiet for his liking. Magnus stepped out anyway, barefoot on the cold floor, the IV marks still stinging on his arm.
Nurses moved quickly, left and right across the corridor, carrying charts, pushing carts, whispering to one another.
He pressed himself against the wall, grinning like a boy sneaking out past curfew. His ribs protested with every breath, but he didn't care.
"Not today," he murmured to himself. "I'm not lying in bed while the world moves on without me."
He moved carefully, ducking his head whenever a nurse passed. He slipped from shadow to shadow with ease for someone who had nearly died hours ago. His wolf stirred, as if sharing the thrill of this little game.
Then he suddenly thought of Beta Xavier.
"That bastard," Magnus whispered, smirking. "Bet he's still sleeping like a pup. Time to see if he's awake yet."
He made his way down the hall, his grin widening when he saw the familiar name on the door.
