POV: Chloe

The hospital cafeteria smelled like a vile mix of stale soup and bleach. I’d practically lived in this ward for days, so I’d grown numb to the stench.

I carried the lunch tray with laser focus. Tristan had been awake for two days. He was already restless, caged in that primal way of an Alpha healing way faster than the doctors liked. The least I could do was bring him some real food.

The door wasn't fully open. The air inside felt thick—the heavy fallout of two stubborn men locking horns. Ethan stood by the window, arms crossed, radiating a dark tension. Tristan sat up in bed, his...