Jolie POV

I wake up alone.

For a moment, I panic, thinking last night was a dream. But then I see the dried blood on my pillowcase and the first aid kit still open on my dresser, and I know it was real.

I healed him. Actually healed him.

My hands still tingle with phantom warmth as I drag myself out of bed. Everything hurts—not the bone-deep agony of shifting, but a hollow exhaustion like I gave away too much of myself.

The compound is busy when I stumble outside. Wolves are everywhere, ...