The master suite of the Dravik Estate, once a place of quiet strength and the lingering scent of Amara's jasmine-vanilla perfume, had been transformed into a cold, clinical tomb. The heavy, floor-to-ceiling blackout curtains were drawn, sealing out the morning sun as if the daylight itself were an insult to the Alpha's condition.
Darien lay across the center of the massive, silk-sheeted bed. He looked small against the vastness of the room, a sight Theron had never expected to see. His body was rigid, trapped in the "healing coma" that triggered when a Beastman's nervous system reached the point of total collapse. His skin was the color of ash, and the dark, violet veins beneath his skin pulsed with a frantic, irregular rhythm.
