Lina brought a wavering Turner to the decrepit bed. I helped him lie down, and although he was losing a lot of blood, he showed no signs of pain; his expression was impassive, despite his pale complexion.

“Lina, shouldn’t he be healing?” I asked, recalling the terrible claw marks on the commander's face when I discovered he was a werewolf.

Lina looked at me, appearing dazed. Maybe she was in shock.

I turned to Turner; he was lying there with his hand on the ...