The Alpha's body was devastatingly still. Her eyes traveled to his face. His lashes rested against his cheeks, perfectly still. His lips were slightly parted. And his skin—when she touched his face, it was cold.
Too cold.
Fear clawed up her throat.
She had to do something. Nina quickly pressed down on his chest, intending to start compressions, but her shoulder immediately screamed in protest. The pain was so sharp she nearly blacked out. Her arm gave way and she fell on top of him with a choked gasp.
No. She couldn't do this. Not with her shoulder like this.
But he was the Alpha. Wolves healed fast. A fall shouldn't kill him. So why wasn't he moving? Was he truly dead?
Desperate, Nina leaned closer, pressing her ear to his chest. A heartbeat echoed in her ears. Faint, but there.
He was alive.
She just had to get him breathing again.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. She swallowed. She needed to get air into his lungs. This was the only way.
