The heavy silence of the medical wing was a jagged blade. Harper’s hand remained raised, her claws gleaming under the flickering witch-light of the ceiling. She looked ready to tear the throat out of anyone who breathed wrong.

Hudson didn’t move. He didn't defend Madison. He didn't even look at her. His shadow loomed over the room, cold and suffocating.

When Harper moved to strike again, Madison’s composure shattered. She let out a sharp, pathetic yelp and bolted toward the corridor, her silk skirts snapping like a flag in a storm.

"Enough!" Hudson’s voice was a low-frequency vibration that made the glass instruments on the trays rattle. "Why the hell...