Anna's POV:

The nurse pulls the clean gown over my shoulders and works the ties at my back with practiced efficiency. I hold still and watch the pale winter light press through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the floor. My fingers curl around the bed rail. The frostbite is retreating—I can feel it the way you feel a bruise shrinking, that particular absence of pain where there used to be a great deal of it. Werewolf healing. It doesn't feel miraculous. It feels like my ...