Later, whispers had reached her ears. He had been seen leaving the territory early that afternoon—with a woman.
She hadn’t needed clarification.
She knew.
Now, adjusting her white healer’s coat over her shoulders, she forced herself forward despite the pain.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into duty. Patients came and went. She cleaned wounds, prescribed herbs, issued instructions.
She didn’t allow herself to think.
Only when dusk settled beyond the infirmary windows did she finally sit back.
As she stood, agony shot up her leg, nearly buckling her knees.
She glanced down.
The swelling had worsened, puffed and discolored.
She hadn’t even treated it.
A tired sigh left her lips as she lowered herself back into her chair.
Nathanie had said he would pick her up.
She decided to wait.
The corridors gradually emptied. Voices faded. Night-shift wolves replaced the daytime staff.
Still no sign of him.
No message.
No call.
The silence pressed heavily against her chest.
Finally, she pushed herself upright again, determination overriding sense.
She would go to his office.
She managed only a handful of steps before her ankle throbbed so violently that cold sweat broke across her skin.