Ajax's POV
Philip has been unconscious for hours now.
His skin looks ashen, his breathing barely there, and tremors rack his entire body every few minutes. The pack healers keep telling me it's normal, that the wolfsbane is fighting the antidote and Karl's blood like it should, but I don't buy it. He looks like he's barely holding on, and I'm terrified that thin thread keeping him alive is about to snap.
I stay planted in the chair beside his bed, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles have gone white. There's dried blood caked on my shirt and arms. Could be from a hunter, could be mine, but I can't make myself care enough to clean it off. Not while Philip looks like death warmed over.
Karl stepped outside to get some fresh air before giving Philip another blood transfusion. He's putting on a brave face for Sally and Warren, but I can see the panic eating at him from the inside.
