Page 263 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"You better!" one shrieks.

The doors close.

The elevator stops on the second floor and the doors open to let a nurse through. She's carrying a chart, and I catch the edge of a name printed on the tab before she tucks it against her chest.

WADE KELLY

My entire body goes cold and I lean against Wraith's side.

I know it shouldn't matter.

Wade is broken. Wraith nearly tore his throat out and Valek all but finished the job. He is physically incapable of standing up, let alone coming after me.

I know this.

My body doesn't.

And alphas heal fast.

The elevator is still moving. Wraith's arm loops around my shoulders and squeezes me tighter against him, and I realize I've been holding my breath. I force air in through my nose. Out through my mouth.

"The cafeteria's got a section roped off for you," the specialist says, pressing the button. "The more ambulatory fans will meet us there."

The elevator opens on the first floor and we file out into the corridor. The cafeteria is to the left, marked by a set of double doors with round windows and the faint clatter of trays and silverware behind them.

Thane holds the door and Whiskey ducks through with an unnecessary flourish of his cape. Plague follows, adjusting his surgical mask and rolling his eyes fondly, shaking his head.

I start to follow them, but I realize something's off.

My shadow is missing.

The hallway behind me is empty, except for Valek. He's halfway between the elevator and the cafeteria, staring off at the far end of the corridor.

"Wait," I say, looking past him. "Where's Wraith?"

Chapter 55

Wraith

The kids were happy to see me.

I keep replaying the visit as I climb the stairs. How they looked at me like I'm a fucking superhero instead of a monster.

Don't have time to think about it right now, though.

I have somewhere else to be.

The doors open on the second floor and I slip out, taking in the all-too-familiar sight of the endless white hall, the beeps of monitors already pricking at my brain.

I know this place well.

Last year, I spent eleven days here after a nerve attack so bad I couldn't see straight. Couldn't do anything except lie in a dark room while my face felt like someone was holding a blowtorch to it from the inside.

I thought I was done with this place.

Apparently not.

A nurse at the station looks up from her computer as I approach. Dark hair pulled back, reading glasses perched on her nose. I remember her. She was kind.