POV: Ronan Montague

The medical wing hallway smelled like antiseptic and fear.

I sat on the floor outside the emergency treatment room, my hands still covered in Mercutio's blood. Someone had tried to get me to wash up, but I couldn't move. Couldn't think past the image of my best friend's eyes going distant while I begged him to stay awake.

The door opened and a healer emerged, exhaustion written across her face.

"He's stable," she said ...