KIERAN’S POV
The hospital hallway reeked of antiseptic and dread. Every step toward Celeste’s room felt like I was walking towards an execution—one I’d set up for myself.
The doctor’s words still rang in my ears. “Her wolf is deteriorating rapidly. Any further emotional instability could cause irreversible damage. Don’t provoke her.”
I wanted to scream—not at the doctor, not at Ethan, not even at Celeste. At myself—at the storm inside my own damn chest.
Ethan walked silently beside me. His posture was stiff, wary, as if he knew I was barely holding on.
And gods, he had no fucking idea. He hadn’t seen the way I’d nearly lunged for Lucian, hadn’t heard the things I said to Seraphina. Words and actions that tasted like rusted regret now.
I forced those thoughts to the furthest crevice of my mind.
Celeste was more important than anything else right now. She was on the brink—and I was simultaneously the one who pushed her there and the only thing tethering her to the edge.
