Three days passed.Kane didn't leave my side. He slept in the chair by my bed, his head tilted back, his mouth slightly open. He ate the hospital food – gray meat and lumpy potatoes – without complaining. He held my hand when the pain got bad. He read to me from a book he found in the healing house library, some old romance novel with a cracked spine and yellow pages.My mother came and went. She brought me clean clothes, my favorite tea, a photograph of my father that I kept on the bedside table. She and Kane didn't talk much, but I saw her watching him. I saw the anger in her eyes soften, just a little.On the third day, Vivra came.She wasn't alone. The Alpha King walked beside her, his face hard as stone.They stood in the doorway of my room. The King's eyes swept over me – the IV, the bandage, the gray skin – and his expression didn't change."Kane," he said. "Come home."Kane didn't stand up. He didn't let go of my hand."No," he said.The King's jaw tightened. "You have a bondin
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