The Omega’s Silent Formula (or The Alpha's Healing Bond)
Dark, webbed veins bled outward from a jagged slash across his ribs, turning the surrounding flesh a mottled, necrotic gray.
Two elderly clan shamans knelt beside the slab, chanting in a low, rhythmic dialect while applying a thick, steaming paste of crushed mountain roots to the wound. Every time the paste touched his skin, the warrior convulsed, a wet, rattling wheeze tearing from his throat.
"Get away from him," Elena commanded, her voice cutting through the smoky cavern like a scalpel.