Lights

CYRUS’ POV

The air con blew against my back, the coolness doing little to nothing to help calm me down. I was seated in Clyde's hospital room with Stephen, watching patiently as the pack doctor checked his vitals and whatever else he needed to make sure was normal.

He, the pack doctor, made a face of relief as he turned to us, clearly about to address us.

“He seems fine in general,” he mused, a little smile on his face. “considering how much progress he's made from the first day. I advise he still gets some rest though, so I trust you won't give him too much work? Or, at all if you could.”

They all turned to me, awaiting my response.

I sighed. Work could wait, I suppose, Clyde’s health came first before anything. If something were to happen to him in the first place that would render him completely damaged, or even worse, dead, then all the work would admittedly be for nothing and would have to be put on hold either way.

“He can rest for as long as he needs, doctor,” I replied, an