KANE’S POV

On the way to the hospital, the little she-wolf in my arms held on to my shirt like it was her only lifeline. Her fingers trembled. She gripped me with the desperation of someone drowning.

Her scent was a bit sweet, but it was tainted by fear and blood. It filled the car. My wolf stirred uneasily inside me, growling low.

She’s terrified, he said. Too broken.

I frowned. She was pale. Her head rested weakly against my chest. Under the dim light, she looked almost fragile. She ...