16

The massive figure of Boris blocked the entire doorway. Silently and surprisingly graceful for his size, he walked into the room and seemed to absorb all the light in it.

Glancing over at the doctor who was kneeling in front of me, still holding my hands, he stopped behind him.

- How is my girl? he asked casually.

Pasha cast a sidelong glance at the shadow that flickered in the corridor, judging by the smell, belonged to a wolf with a scar, and got up from his knees.

- He is recovering faster than could be predicted, - he answered just as casually, turning to face Boris. “You have it, Boris Sergeevich, a fighter,” he added, looking directly at him.

"That's right," the husband chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets in a relaxed way.

I sucked in the air, confidently filled not only with the smell of a wolf, but also with the smell of the threat hidden in the words and movements of Boris.

I didn't know what to think, what to do. What did it all mean? Husband with sharp, wolf hearing