DEBBY’S POV__________________________________“You’re done, Sasha!” Levin’s voice cracks like a whip, echoing in my head. I’m trapped in this coma, my body pinned to the hospital bed, but my mind’s alive, catching every word. He’s in a grimy safehouse, face bruised, eyes blazing. “No more pack. No more Jerry. Get out before I make you.”“You don’t get to call that shot, Levin!” Sasha fires back, her voice sharp, hunter-sharp. “Jerry needs me. You think you can protect him alone? You’re barely standing!”I feel the heat between them, like a spark ready to torch everything. My chest tightens, not from the knife wound but from fear. Jerry’s out there, running with that damn bloodstone map, and Levin’s pushing away the one person keeping him alive. The city’s growl rumbles low, shaking my bones, and Lykaon’s shadow creeps in, his voice cold as a blade. “You’re losing them, Debby. Your boy, your love—they’re slipping.”“Shut it,” I mutter, my thoughts spitt
DEBBY’S POV__________________________________The hospital’s hum is a chain, pinning me to this damn bed. My body’s still, but my mind’s a storm, clawing through the dark to find Jerry. I see him, my boy, running through Crescent City’s alleys, Sasha at his side. His breath’s ragged, eyes flicking like he feels me watching. I want to scream, Slow down, kid, you’re not ready! But I’m trapped in this coma, my voice a ghost in my head. The city’s growl rumbles low, shaking my bones, and Lykaon’s shadow creeps in—red eyes, sharp teeth, whispering my failures. “You can’t protect him, Debby. He’s marked for war.”“Get bent,” I snarl, my thoughts spitting fire. The hospital room flickers—machines beeping, a nurse muttering about my vitals. I don’t care. My focus locks on Jerry, his sneakers slapping wet pavement, Sasha’s hand on his arm. They’re dodging Damon’s men, I can feel it, the bloodstone’s pull like a hook in Jerry’s chest. I need to guide him, keep him safe, but this fog in my head
DEBBY’S POV__________________________________The hospital machines hum, a steady drone pulling me deeper into the dark. My body’s heavy, trapped in this coma, but my mind’s alive, clawing through fog to reach Jerry. I see him—my boy, his backpack slung low, weaving through Crescent City High’s crowded halls. Kids shove past, their laughter sharp like broken glass. Darren’s there, that punk with a sneer, circling Jerry like a vulture. My chest aches, not from the knife wound but from guilt. I should’ve been there, not stuck in this bed, dreaming of fights I can’t win.“Jerry, watch your back,” I whisper, though no one hears. My voice echoes in this weird in-between, where I’m not dead but not awake. The city’s growl rumbles low, vibrating through my bones. Lykaon’s out there, his shadow curling in my mind, all claws and red eyes. He’s the wolf king, the one tied to Jerry’s mark, and he’s calling me now, his voice like gravel. “You failed him, Debby. You hid the truth.”“Shut up,” I m
DEBBY’S POV__________________________________“Levin?”The word scrapes out of me before I even know I’m saying it. My throat’s dry, voice all gravel. But it’s his name, and once it’s out there, it doesn’t stop echoing.“I’m here.”His voice — low, rough, familiar. It slides through the dark like smoke. I turn toward it, heart slamming, because I know that sound. I’ve been hearing it in dreams since the day I left.The room flickers. Hospital walls melt into black, the kind that hums like static before a storm. There’s light leaking through broken blinds — cold, silver. My breath fogs in the air. I feel cold, but my skin’s burning.He steps out of the dark. Same leather jacket. Same tired eyes. Looks like the night I walked out — rain on his face, that stubborn hurt in his jaw.“Why’d you come?” I ask, but my voice breaks halfway through.“Because you called,” he says. “You always do when you’re falling apa
DEBBY’S POV __________________________________Dark hum. Machines breathing. My heart a metronome. The world’s a black ocean, thick and endless, pressing down. I try to move, but the dark swallows my limbs, slow and heavy, like syrup.Somewhere far off, a voice cuts through.“Where’s the map?”Levin. Rough, desperate.Then another voice — clipped, official, too clean. A cop maybe. “You’ve been withholding evidence, Levin. The docks burned. People died. You think we’re just gonna let that slide?”A chair scrapes. Metal on tile. Pain hums under his words.My mind drifts toward the sound. I see flashes — white lights, interrogation room, Levin’s bruised face. His knuckles are split. His eyes are empty and wild all at once.“I told you,” he says, jaw tight. “The bloodstone’s gone. My people— they’re dead or missing.”My people. He still says it like that.The words echo through me, rippling the black water around me. I try to speak — his name on my tongue — but it comes out as a hiss, bu
SASHA’S POV__________________________________“Jerry, keep that blood on the carving!” I yell, my voice raw over the dock’s chaos, waves slamming below. My knife’s slick with blood, my arm burning from fighting off Damon’s goons. Jerry’s kneeling by the pier’s wolf head carving, his bloody hand pressed to it, the bloodstone map glowing like a damn beacon in his lap. His eyes blaze red, alpha mark going wild, and he’s shaking, the ritual tearing at him. Debby’s beside him, pale as hell, barely standing after her coma, her hand on his shoulder like she’s holding him together. Levin’s down the pier, bleeding out, barely moving after Brad’s betrayal hit us like a truck. Damon’s here, gun raised, his cold eyes locked on Jerry, and more of his men flood the docks. We’re screwed, but I ain’t letting Jerry die.“Sasha, he’s fading!” Debby shouts, her voice cracking, desperate. She’s clutching her side, blood seeping through her bandage. “The ritual’s killing him!”“It’s not!” I snap, slashin