Chapter 11

VIKTOR

I was fine.

Each breath burned like fucking lava. Unrelenting, like claws scratching at the walls of my lungs. The wound kept reminding me of its existence, throbbing with fire while my body screamed at me to go back to the fucking infirmary. But I never listened to their annoying pleas, to their shrieks and orders, even the ones in my own mind that were starting to sound like Pandora's voice in my brain.

The wounds would heal, anyway.

"You're lucky," Falcon had told me earlier. He was our best healer, even with his latent disinterest and dead eyes, always tired, full of dark circles. "If any of those arrows had hit your spine, I wouldn't have had much to do."

And he knew very well that I would rather die than no longer be able to protect the pack. If I was incapacitated for long, some rival might appear. Someone daring enough to take advantage of the fact that I couldn't get out of bed.

A snowball crashed into my back, forcing my thoughts back into reality. That fucking sharp