The Alpha's voice was low, but it slashed through the sterile air like a knife.
"If she dies," he said, each word drawn out like the sound of a blade being sharpened, "I'll break your neck myself."
The pack doctor froze, every drop of blood draining from his face. His trembling hands hovered uselessly over his clipboard, his lips parting and closing again like a fish gasping for air. Even the nurses stopped breathing. The only sound in the room was the faint, steady beep of the monitor beside me.
From where I lay on the bed, I could barely move. The fever had stripped me of strength, leaving my limbs heavy and my head spinning. But I could still hear him every word, every drop of venom in his tone and I could feel it, too. The way his anger filled the room like smoke.
Alpha Zachary Varyn.
The Psycho Alpha.
