"Don't you dare touch my clothes, Tristan. And don't you ever step foot into the Evergreens again, or the next time you try to intimidate me, you’ll be leaving in a meat wagon."The air in the hospital corridor was stale, thick with the scent of antiseptic and the lingering, bitter musk of the Blackmoor pack. I didn't wait for Tristan to respond. I slammed the door to Lucien’s ICU suite, the lock clicking home with a finality that made the walls shake. I was shaking, too—not from the slap my mother-in-law had landed on my face, but from the sheer, burning audacity of the entire situation."You're making a scene, Xender," Lucien’s voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the hum of the heart monitor. He was watching me from the bed, his dark eyes tracking the pulse jumping at my throat."I’m dealing with a pack of vultures, Lucien. There's a difference."I walked to the bedside, my hands still trembling. I’d brought the soup to ground myself, a simple, human act in a world that was
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