"Is Redmoon visiting her?" Bloodmoon asked as they finished their drinks.
"Yes," Fin said, setting his glass aside. "Would you like to see her too? I'm sure it would mean a great deal to her—even if she's still unconscious."
Bloodmoon nodded, his expression softening. "Yes, if it's not too much trouble. I hate what's happened to her."
"Of course," Fin replied, rising from his chair. "I'll take you there now."
Both men stood, their movements quiet, measured. The fire crackled behind them as they left the war room, their footsteps echoing softly through the corridor. The meeting had gone exactly as Fin intended—it had taken time, careful phrasing, and a handful of strategic lies, but the outcome was the same.
He trusted Bloodmoon now—and more importantly, Bloodmoon trusted him. Mission accomplished.
As they walked, Fin opened the mindlink.
Fin: Meeting went well. He wants to see her, so we're heading to the infirmary suite now.
Cael: Called it. If Redmoon does it, Bloodmoon does it.
Fin: He's also agreed to attend the trial.
Jax: Redmoon and Rex plan to attend too.
Cael: Good. Now it's time for little Jax to pretend he's not repulsed by his mate and go stand next to her. Off you go.
Fin had to fight the urge to smirk. He could already picture Jax in the suite, likely still sitting beside Nova, her hand in his.
Jax: Fantastic. My reward for not sleeping in two days.
Cael's laughter echoed faintly through the link, and for a fleeting moment, the grim tension of the morning lifted.
When they entered the infirmary, Nova looked worse than she did when Fin left her. More bruises had surfaced. He could feel through the matebond that it wasn't hurting as bad as before, but still there, flickering faintly beneath the surface like embers refusing to die out.
Elias answered Fin's thoughts before he asked.
"They show before they heal. It's a good sign. The bruising means the toxins are breaking apart and moving out of her system. Does it hurt more or less than earlier?"
"Less." Fin said, face etched with concern.
Bloodmoon stopped at the foot of her bed. The color drained from his face. He had known she'd been poisoned — but not like this. He stared down at Nova as though struggling to reconcile the girl before him with the one he remembered. "Gods…" His voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Nova."
That was all he could manage.
Fin had seen this man in every shape — drunk, defiant, fierce in battle, protective to the point of recklessness — but he'd never seen him like this. Not broken. Until now. Twice in one day — once in the war room, and now again beside Nova's bed.
Marra shifted beside Jax, her throat tightening. Then she moved toward her father, placing a hand on his arm—a small, steady gesture, the kind that spoke louder than words.
"She'll pull through," she said softly. "She's too strong not to."
Bloodmoon didn't answer at first. He simply set his hand over hers, his grip firm, almost protective. Then he finally looked at her, his expression cracking just enough to show the fear he'd kept buried all night.
"Aye," he murmured. "That she is."
He pulled Marra into his arms, holding her with a sudden, fierce relief—because for one sharp, quiet heartbeat, he knew it could have been her.
Fin touched Nova's forehead. She was burning again. "Elias," he said quietly, "can we give her something for the fever? She's burning up again."
"No." Elias said clipped and flat, not glancing up. Not elaborating.
Fin looked up, bewildered.
Cael's voice drifted from across the room, dry as ever. "You're the sixth person who's asked him that in the last hour."
Fin shot him a look. Cael only raised an eyebrow. "Seventh, if you count me twice."
Even Bloodmoon let out a faint exhale — not quite laughter, but close enough.
"Can we give her some of my blood?" Fin asked, incredulous.
Elias didn't even look up from his notes. "That depends," he said dryly. "Did you have a glass of whiskey in the war room?"
Fin hesitated, caught off guard. He weighed his options, jaw tightening, then finally grunted. "I have a high metabolism. It's out of my system." He didn't want to lie — not if it could harm Nova — but he wasn't about to admit the truth, either.
"Mm," Elias murmured noncommittally, clearly unconvinced but too tired to argue.
Balen spoke next, still staring at Nova. "What does recovery look like for this?" His voice was quiet, distant, as though he were speaking to himself.
Elias exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Last time, she was out for about two days. This time the dose was stronger, and it lingered longer. Hard to predict. But she's already doing better than last night. Her heart rate's stabilizing. She's healing faster than most shifters would."
He paused, glancing toward her briefly. "Gods know it's not the first time she's been in my care."
"Gods, Elias, could you be any more crass?" Elle huffed from across the room.
Her tone carried no fear tonight — just exasperation. Whatever line of formality had existed between her and the healer was long gone. They were on a first name basis now.
Elias arched a brow, deadpan. "You asked a question, I gave an answer."
Elle rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "You're lucky I like you."
The corner of Fin's mouth twitched despite himself, and even Bloodmoon's expression softened, just slightly.
A broken family had taken shape in that room, forged from grief and loyalty, before any of them realized that was what they'd become.