Chapter 72

Addy’s POV

The next week crept by like a sloth on Ambien—agonizingly slow and riddled with endless snacks. The pack—my very own wolf-support staff—took turns feeding us, checking our vitals, and occasionally offering moral support: “You got this,” they’d say as I blinked at my wolf’s snout licking my face. School started back up for Asher a few days in, so he was a night owl guest star. Riley and Lila, blessed martyrs of the fast-track nursing program, were buried in textbooks until after dinner, but they still popped in for nightly cuddle vigil. Honestly, it was like living in a weird hostel where the only amenity was group therapy for traumatized werewolves.

Every time a visitor left, my wolf would stretch luxuriously against Damien, curl up on his chest, and lick his arms while he snored. The dog-bed audition lasted until the eighth day, when Damien finally stirred. I watched with the interest of someone waiting for a Windows update to finish—could it be done a