Mia gently pressed a cold, damp towel to Alpha Kade's forehead, her brows furrowing with worry. His body was unusually still, and the rise and fall of his chest was slower than it should've been. His wounds weren't healing, a fact that sent a pang of fear through her chest.
She glanced over her shoulder at Michael, who was leaning casually against the wall with arms crossed. "There's something wrong with him. He's supposed to be awake by now. Werewolves heal faster than this. This isn't... normal," she said, her fear becoming unbearable.
Michael shrugged. "You're the werewolf here, not me. What am I supposed to know about your kind's healing? All I need is blood, and I'm good."
Before Mia could respond, Aleron entered the room with a serious expression. "Mia," he said, holding out a folded piece of paper. "Someone asked me to give this to you."
Michael straightened, his eyes narrowing. "Who?"
