Chapter 8 · Clinic Card

"Ethan." I didn't move off the exam table. My hand was still wrapped around gauze, half taped to Cassian's forearm. "You don't knock anymore?"

"Door was open." Ethan's eyes went straight to the gauze, then to Cassian's fingers still resting on the back of my hand like they belonged there. "Guess a lot's open around here."

Cassian didn't pull away. If anything he pressed closer, his shoulder blocking half my view of the door, like Ethan wasn't worth turning fully around for.

"You want something," Cassian said, "or you just like watching."

"I want her." Ethan said it flat, like he was ordering a coffee. "Pack business. Not yours."

"She rejected — sorry." I laughed, short and ugly. "You rejected her. In front of forty people. Remember that part, or does it get fuzzy right after you look good?"

Ethan's jaw ticked. "This is different. Someone's down at the east den. Fever, won't stop shaking. My beta says it's bad."

"Then take him to a hospital.