Lyra had never been this close to Alpha Knox before. She knew he had scars, but she never knew there were so many. The scars were painted like canvas on him, telling stories she could not read but could feel in her bones. She wondered what kind of pain he must have gone through in Kronos' den. How many nights had he endured torture that left such permanent marks? How had he survived such brutality?
Her hands trembled as she continued to press the damp cloth against Alpha Knox's wound. As she cleaned up the wound, she realized that the injury looked more like a bite, but she said nothing. She refused to meet his gaze, though she could feel his eyes boring into her, studying her every movement with an intensity that made her skin prickle. The chamber remained silent except for his labored breathing and the occasional drip of water when she wrung the cloth over the basin.
