Page 72 of Ethan
We stayed like that for a long moment, blood and sweat and dirt between us, but something solid and fierce beneath it all. Ethan reached for my hand, fingers lacing with mine.
Behind us, I heard Griffin guiding Maurice to the couch and Micah finally letting out a tiny, tired yip as he settled beside Maurice. We were all alive and for now, that was enough.
Chapter 17
Dean
“I’ll call Cooper,”Griffin offered.
I didn’t envy him. Our alpha would want answers and fast. But I was glad Griffin volunteered. I didn’t have it in me to relive everything out loud just yet.
By the time we reached the clinic, dawn was breaking. I helped Ethan ease Micah inside while Griffin carried Maurice over the threshold.
The air inside the clinic was crisp, smelling of herbs and clean linens, familiar and calming. Ethan moved into motion the second we were through the door.
Whatever fear he’d carried in the woods melted away, replaced by quiet efficiency and that same focused calm that always showed up when someone was hurting.
“Put Maurice on the cot,” Ethan murmured to Griffin, already reaching for supplies. “Micah, here. Shift if you can, bud.”
Micah looked up at him with tired eyes but did as asked. A moment later, a pale boy stood where the wolf had been, shaky and still wearing bruises on his ribs.
Ethan wrapped him in a blanket without a word and guided him toward the second cot.
I leaned against the wall, watching as Ethan worked. My shoulder throbbed in time with my heartbeat, and I was pretty sure I had at least two cracked ribs, but I didn’t move.
I just needed a minute.
Griffin stepped over, quiet as ever. “I’ll stay with Maurice and Micah.”
“You good?” I asked.
He nodded. “Cooper’s on his way. Said to tell you thank you. And to not bleed all over the floor.”
I snorted softly, which made my ribs scream in protest. “I’ll try.”
Griffin gave me a brief nod and turned back toward the cots.
Ethan approached me then, a first aid kit in his arms. He gave me a look that was way too assessing for my taste. “Sit.”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
“You’re not.”
“I’ve had worse,” I said.
Ethan arched a brow. “And that means I should ignore this?”
“No,” I muttered. “Just… don’t fuss.”
“I never fuss,” he said, deadpan, guiding me gently toward the padded exam table anyway.
I grumbled under my breath but sat. He pulled on gloves and grabbed a bottle of saline and a stack of gauze. “Shirt off.”
“You could say please,” I said.
He leveled me with a look. “Dean.”
“Fine, fine,” I muttered.
