Chapter 69

Aisha's POV The scent of blood clung to the air like a curse. It was the kind of metallic, sour tang that stuck in the back of your throat, sharp and unrelenting. I tried to breathe past it as I stepped into the emergency ward of the hospital, sleeves rolled to my elbows, hands already stained red with the first rounds of triage. This wasn't Harold's pack. These weren't my warriors. But they were my responsibility now. And Simon... gods, Simon wasn't even here. I stood in the center of controlled chaos—wounded bodies littering the floor, medics running from cot to cot, howls of pain echoing in the halls. I had to keep my head. "Max!" I called over the noise. "Separate the wounded into tiers. Top priority: severe bleeding and puncture wounds. Second: fractures and burns. Third: those who can walk or tend to others. I need more hands." He was by my side in seconds. "On it. What about you?" "I'll do the critical cases," I said, already kneeling beside a young boy with a gash down his side