Draven.
And when I looked closer, really looked, my heart stopped.
Her breathing wasn't shallow anymore. Her nose, which should have been swollen and bleeding fresh, was only stained with dried blood.
Impossible.
I took another step forward, letting the first aid box drop softly onto the floor. The soft thud echoed between us.
She flinched, just slightly.
"Look at me," I ordered, my voice low.
She hesitated. That hesitation spoke volumes.
I reached out, ignoring her recoil, and tugged the collar of her shirt down over her shoulder, exposing pale skin where bruises should have already bloomed dark.
My hand brushed down her arm, then to her back, searching. But there was nothing. No bruises. No broken ribs, no trembling breath from pain.
Only one explanation coiled in my mind, sharp and ugly: Meredith had a wolf, and she had hidden it from me.
Fury burned through my veins, boiling hotter than anything I'd felt in years.
"Meredith," I rasped. "How long?"
