Page 29

This place isn’t a hospital. It’s a waiting room for death.

If Irene ever got treated here as a child, I wouldn’t blame her if she ran away the first chance she got.

I check the time. Seven minutes left.

Thirteen minutes of searching and nothing.

I’m about to flag down a nurse to ask about Dr. Wells, when a sound catches my attention.

Soft. Light. Familiar.

It’s a laugh, I realize.

I turn sharply, muscles locking, instincts sharpening.

At the far end of the corridor, sitting on a hospital bed, is a tiny girl.

She’s swinging her legs, clutching a pink teddy bear that’s twice her size.

And for some reason, I can’t fucking breathe.

The black curls. The bright green eyes.

Something slams into me, hard and fast, like a punch to the ribs.

My wolf stiffens, ears pricking.

Everything inside me tightens, and I’m already moving before I know what I’m doing.

The little girl looks up just as I reach her bedside, tilting her head in curiosity.

“You’re big,” she says, like I'm the eighth wonder of the world.

A huff of amusement escapes me. “And you’re small.”

She’s wearing a pink dress coupled with pink shoes. My guess is, she’s a huge fan of pink.

Her eyes widen like I just told her the greatest secret in the world.

“That’s true! But Mommy says I’ll be tall if I eat broccoli and be good,” she says solemnly.

My wolf eases slightly, watching her with an intensity that should unsettle me.

I laugh before I can stop myself. I don’t laugh. Ever. But something about her pulls at something dangerous inside me. Something I don’t understand.

“What’s your name?” I ask, scanning the area.

A bunch of the patients here are huddled together, but the little girl is all alone.

No one else is near her bed.

No nurse. No adult. No “mommy” despite her mentioning her mother.

Diverting from answering my question, she hugs her teddy bear closer. “Mommy says I shouldn’t give strangers my name.”

I can’t help but grin. “Your mommy’s a wise woman.”

She tilts her head, considering me. “You don’t look like a bad man.”