THE BROKEN WOLVES

Saige's [POV]

Something about the drugs kept the nightmares at bay the night before, but as I lay trapped in the sheets from Nurse Amy's cocoon-like way of tucking me in, the memories swarmed me.

Sunlight from a new day bleeds through the thin tissue-like blinds covering my window as I stare up at the slowly brightening ceiling.

I haven't dreamt about Dad for a long time now. Months, probably. But maybe the fact I'm dreaming about him means that's where I should go. Or maybe I'm being as naïve as I was to take a strange man's hand and hope he'd lead me to a better life.

A flicker of the last seconds of the dream hovers at the edge of my mind. In it, a fierce sun beats down on us, making our sunkissed skin glow. Dad lifts me on his shoulders as I squeal at him to put me down. Mom laughs at us both when he threatens to toss me in the lake beside our cabin. The last summer vacation before Mom's cough turned out not to be a winter cough at all.

My lips curve in a smile at the memory that feels like it was a lifetime ago. No, of a past life that feels so hazy and faded, it's like it happened to someone else.

I'll be volunteering for more of the same bottle-dodging, belt-whipping future I was so desperate to escape from before, but once I tell him what my life has been like, maybe he'll remember when he was a Dad worth having.

My smile fades.

No, Saige. That man is gone. Probably forever. You walked away once for a reason.

More light streams in, making my dry eyes itch.

The door creaks open. I snap my gaze toward it, my body tensing beneath the scratchy covers and a mattress so thin that I struggle to believe anyone could have a decent night's sleep unless they had nice strong drugs to knock them out.

A bright-eyed woman in her early twenties, wearing pink scrubs and her honey-blonde hair in a braid, smiles at me from the doorway. "Good morning. I'm Nurse Olivia. I'm just starting my shift, so I wanted to do a quick check on my patients. Sorry if I woke you."

I twist my lips into something I hope resembles a smile. "You didn't wake me."

She edges in the doorway, her brow furrowed in concern. "You don't look like you slept at all."

"Oh, my ribs..." Once again I let my voice trail off and let her fill in the rest.

Her frown deepens. "Let me go find a doctor and—"

And have my pain meds increased so I'm too out of it to focus? No.

I shake my head. "It isn't that bad. I think I just rolled onto it at night. I'm okay."

She doesn't believe me. At least not completely. But she backs out of the room. "Well, try to sleep a little more, and I'll be back to check on you later, okay?"

I nod. "Okay."

But I don't sleep once she's left. I spend the next several minutes planning out all the things I'm going to need to do to get out of this hospital.

My ribs scream at me as I ease myself off the edge of the bed. My toes make the barest contact with the floor, but I don't go further than that. I can't bring myself to do that just yet.

I'm taking a breath when the sensation of being watched makes me jerk my head toward my doorway.

Olivia left my door open when she checked on me after breakfast, something I was desperate to tell her not to do. But if I'd told her that, she'd want to know why, and there are some questions I never intend to answer.

A dark-haired man with blue-green eyes and a scruffy, careless sort of sexiness gazes back at me. Not shifter. He doesn't have that feral look in his eye I've learned shifters have. If a girl was interested in falling into bed with a guy who looked like the hot European doctor you'd find on some TV show, they wouldn't say no to this guy.

I'm not that girl.

But that doesn't stop me from wondering for the first time since I opened my eyes what a girl must look like after being dragged from the river and lying unconscious in a hospital bed for a week.

He must be a doctor or a surgeon going by the navy scrubs he's wearing. There's something a little too commanding in his gaze for him to be a nurse.

"Hi," he says, his accent all American with a drawl to go along with the lazy smile in his eyes. Probably a surfer when he was in college. Or a stoner.

Not knowing what to say in case he takes it as an invitation to come closer, I say nothing.

His lips quirked into a wider smile. "Shy, huh?"

I frown. "I'd like you to leave." It's rude, I know. But if he's a doctor or a surgeon whatever he is I'm a patient here, so he has to leave if I tell him to. Or I can scream.

But he doesn't leave. His gaze sweeps me from head to toe. "Simon said you were in pretty bad shape, but back on your feet already?" His gaze lingers on my throat. "Impressive."

I don't like the attention he's paying to the bites on my neck. To a human, they would look like an out-of-control dog or a coyote had savaged me if you even find coyotes in big cities. A shifter would know they were looking at multiple failed attempts to turn me. The way this guy's looking at my throat is as if he knows what they mean.

But he's human.

I'm sure of it.

"I'm Harley. Yes, like the motor—"

"I want you to leave.Now." I dart a glance at my only two avenues of escape: the bathroom which is closer to him than me, and the window which leads to a drop so high that my panic about who this guy is and what he wants from me means I'm seriously considering it. I angle my body an inch to the window, ready to run for it.

The amusement in his eyes fades as he takes a step toward me. "You don't have to—"

"Hey, Harley." Olivia appears behind him, a grin on her face. "Were you looking for me?"

He glances over at her. "Hey, beautiful. Simon, actually, but since I was on this floor, I thought I'd check in on his mysterious Jane Doe." The grin he shoots me is playful.

I don't smile back.

"He's on later. Do you want me to tell him you were looking for him?" Olivia asks, her gaze moving from Harley to me and back again as if she can feel the tension radiating between us.

"No need. I'll catch him later." The man—Harley—steps back and turns to leave, but before he does, he angles his head toward me. "Get well soon, Jane."

Again, I don't respond, just wait for him to leave.

Once he's gone, Olivia crosses over to me. "Are you okay? He didn't scare you, did he? Harley's a bit of a flirt, but he's harmless."

Something about her gaze makes me think she knows I have a less-than-pleasant history with men, and she's right. "Is he a doctor?"

"Surgeon. Cardiothoracic."

I blink up at her in confusion.

"Uh, sorry. When you're around doctors all day... heart and lung surgeon. Chest too, but his specialty is the heart."

"A guy called Harley is a heart surgeon?"

So definitely not a stoner then. Maybe not even a surfer.

He looked young enough to play a TV doctor, not an actual heart surgeon. He couldn't have been older than thirty-five. And that's a push.

She barks out a laugh. "I know, right? They must have tortured him in med school, but he's one of the best. Surgeon and decent guy." Her expression softens. "So you have nothing to be afraid of around him."

I lower my head. "I guess."

Olivia clears her throat. "You look like you're ready to get some exercise."

My gaze returns to hers. "I feel like my muscles are wasting away the longer I lie here. A walk would be nice."

Her smile widens. "Well, I can help with that. Let me grab some slippers for your feet and a walker and we can do a lap of the floor. Build up a big appetite for lunch."

"A lap sounds good." It'll help me figure out the best way I can leave, and where I can grab some clothes before I make my escape. "Maybe two."

I don't manage two laps. As it is, I barely manage one before the combination of the pain in my ribs, my throbbing fractured wrist from holding onto the walker, and a weakness that comes from going for too long without moving defeats me.

After Olivia helps me use the bathroom and I slip back into bed, I sleep again, so exhausted I feel like I've run a marathon instead of having walked for five minutes.

When I flutter my eyes open, the light outside is less sharp.

Must be afternoon.

"Oh good, you're awake," a warm voice calls from the door. Olivia. "I didn't want to wake you, but lunch is about to be served."

"Okay." I just hope this meal will be one I can recognize. "How long?"

She glances down the hallway. "Maybe thirty minutes. If you're hungry now, I could—"

Already shaking my head, I take my time sitting up, face passive so I don't reveal how much it hurts to do it. "No. I was hoping it would be okay if I went on another walk?"

Surprise flashes in her eyes. "Twice in one day? Are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard?"

I probably am, but I don't have time to sit around in bed and wait until I'm fully recovered. At some point tomorrow, those cops will be back with questions for me. Questions that I can't answer. "No. I can do it."

She doesn't look convinced.