Ash's POV
Ash exhaled slowly, dragging a chair closer to Opal's hospital bed. The legs scraped against the floor, the sound hollow in the heavy stillness of the room.
He sat down slowly, as if the movement itself required more strength than he had left.
He should've felt relief.
Seraphina had done everything. The doctors had done everything. Opal was stable.
But this wasn't peace.
This wasn't victory.
This wasn't her.
Opal wasn't still. Opal wasn't silent. She was wildfire and thunder, laughter and fury—raw energy packed into a small, defiant frame that never stayed still for long.
And now…
She looked breakable.
Too small beneath the stark white sheets. Her silver hair fanned out like moonlight across the pillow. Her lips pale. Her eyes closed. Her chest lifted and fell to the rhythm of a machine that was keeping her alive.
A machine was breathing for her.
His sister. His best friend. His Alpha.
