That was answer enough.
A door opened across the room. The doctor came in first. Small, gray-haired, brisk in a dark sweater and surgical gloves. The kind of woman who had long ago stopped performing bedside warmth and replaced it with competence. Behind her came Ian’s brother.
I knew he was Ian’s brother before anyone said it. Same dark hair. Same size in the shoulders. Same air of being better armed than he looked. But where Ian felt almost animal in his stillness, this man felt structured. Measured. A threat that had read the room, taken notes, and purchased the building.
His eyes moved over me as if I were a crisis with a pulse.
“Cassie Morgan,” he said.
“That depends who’s asking.”
“I am Ronan Holloway.”
“Are you the cult leader, the resort owner, or the person in charge of whatever lawsuit I’m having?”
“I own the resort.”
“Of course you do.”
“And I lead the pack.”
I closed my eyes. “I miss ten minutes ago, when I only had wolf magic.”
The doctor came to my side and checked the monitor. “Her fever is climbing.”
Ian’s hand remained on my shoulder. “She was awake.”
“I’m in the room,” I said.
“Yes,” the doctor said without looking at me. “That is the current problem.”
I would have liked her under other circumstances.
Ronan stood at the foot of the bed. “Dr. Sava believes you understand enough to answer questions.”
“I understand that your brother bit me, your resort is apparently a kennel with marble floors, and nobody has called an ambulance.”
“An ambulance cannot help you.”
“Very convenient for the resort owner.”
His eyes remained steady. “Very dangerous for you.”
Ian’s hand flexed.
Ronan noticed, but his gaze stayed on me. “You entered a restricted private area during a ceremony.”
“I chased a dog through a gate that was not locked.”
“The gate was not your problem. The hedge was.”
“I’ll add that to my apology notes if I survive the night.”
“Most of my people do not expect you to.”
There it was. Plain. Cold. Dropped between us with no cushion.
The monitor kept beeping.