Three hours later, they wheeled me out. My face was white as bone. I pressed one hand against the wall and lowered myself onto a bench in the corridor. A low, dull ache pulsed through my lower abdomen, and somewhere deeper than that, my wolf lay curled on her side, silent again, but a different silence now. The silence of something missing.
Then a commotion broke out ahead.
A familiar figure swept past carrying someone in his arms. I caught a flash of dark hair, the sharp edge of a jaw I had once traced with my fingertips. He disappeared around the corner, and moments later came rushing back. His gaze snagged on me and stopped.
"Hurry. Come with me."
He threw the words over his shoulder and seized my wrist. I was running before I understood what was happening. My body screamed with every stride. The ache in my abdomen deepened, rolling through me in waves, and my face drained of whatever color it had left. He did not notice.
He didn't stop until we reached the blood transfusion chamber.
"Her blood type matches Ashford's. Draw hers."