FINN'S POV
The air in Dante's hospital room was thick with tension, the kind that twisted itself into knots in your stomach and refused to let go.
I was standing by the window, watching the gray clouds drift aimlessly across the sky, when the faint sound of footsteps brought me back to reality.
My mother sat next to me, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. Neither of us had said much, too consumed by worry, by fear, by the heavy burden of waiting.
Suddenly, the door opened, and the Griffith Pack’s medical team walked in, each one of them moving with an air of authority, dressed in pristine white coats bearing their pack’s emblem.
The moment they entered, everyone froze. My mother let out a small, shocked gasp, and I felt my own heart skip a beat. Even Linda, who had been sitting across the room pretending to be lost in thought, looked up, her face momentarily slipping as recognition flashed in her eyes.
The hospital staff, who had been bustling around
