58 : Live

ELIJAH

Carlisle's booming voice rattles the hallway. "Spill it, Donovan! Stealing the baby? Talk now, or—"

A hacking cough explodes from my throat, a metallic spray painting the floor red. Carlisle's grip slackens, his blue eyes widening in shock. "What the hell? You okay?"

"Poison," I rasp, the world tilting on its axis. The harsh fluorescent lights blur into a swirling mess. Darkness creeps in at the edges, and the last thing I register is Carlisle's face morphing from rage to genuine concern.

—--------------------

The harsh smell of disinfectant stings my nose as I crack open an eye. White ceiling. I am definitely not waking up in my own bed. I groan, turning my head to find myself in a sterile hospital room – Moonlight Pack Hospital, to be precise.

A man in his fifties with glasses perched on his nose appears beside the bed. Doctor, by the looks of the white coat. "Mr. Donovan? You alright?" he asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Before I can croak out a reply,