Lorraine's POV
I stood in the middle of the common room, still as stone, the heavy silence pressing down on me like a weighted chain.
Reconnect with your wolf.
Will it to heal you.
How the hell was I supposed to do that?
The bleeding hadn't stopped. The jagged, brutal stump where my finger used to be throbbed with a pulsing, angry ache. Each heartbeat sent another trickle of blood down my palm and onto the floor. I stared at it, dazed.
I was going to bleed out in this dusty, empty place. Just like that. Alone.
No. No, I wouldn't let that happen.
Grimacing, I yanked off my jacket with one arm and wrapped the bloodied sleeve tightly around my injured hand. It wasn't perfect, but it slowed the bleeding just enough that I could think without blacking out.
My legs wobbled slightly, but I forced them to move, staggering to a relatively clean patch of floor. Dust clung to my boots. The air was dry, stale, filled with memories of the dead and missing.
