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“Good,” I say.

Dutch raises an eyebrow at me from across the room.

“I mean, good that he’ll wake up,” I say. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Dutch says in a tone that suggests he finds the clarification unnecessary and also telling.

Thankfully, he lets it go—for now. I fully expect a slew of texts about it later.

Grey appears in the doorway behind Dutch. “How is he?”

“Nothing seems to be seriously wrong that I can tell,” Marcus says, stepping back after taking Nash’s pulse.

“He went further than he should have,” Grey says. Regret flashes in his gaze. I know he feels responsible, but my worry for Nash is too much to let him off the hook.

“One alpha called to another. He followed the connection,” Marcus says without looking up from the text he’s typing. “Can’t say my wolf wanted to try it, but I guess I understand Nash doing it. That fucker’s always thought of himself as invincible.”

“Maybe he’s not wrong,” Dutch says. “If the fucker recovers from this, I’d say he’s onto something.”

Marcus snorts.

After a few minutes, Grey takes Razor and Dutch back downstairs, only after Marcus promises to tell them when Nash is awake. When they’re gone, I pace to the wall on the far side of the bed and lean against it, arms crossed.

“You can have the chair,” Marcus offers.

“I’m good.” I remain where I am, and after a moment, he takes the chair for himself.

He finishes whatever he’s typing and pockets his phone. For a moment, we just sit on opposite sides of Nash’s unconscious body like the world’s most uncomfortable vigil.

“You’ve known him a long time,” I say finally. Not a question.

“Since we were teenagers,” Marcus says.

“That’s a long time.”

“Feels longer.” He leans back in his chair with the ease of someone who has waited in rooms like this before and learned not to fight it.

“Has he always been this reckless?”

“Nah.” He grins. “Back then, he was worse.”

I shake my head, and we fall back into silence.

His phone dings. He texts someone back and then pockets it again.

We wait some more.

“He doesn’t do this, you know,” he says a while later.

I look at him. “Pass out?”

“Bring women into his orbit.” He says it simply. No judgment in it. Just fact. “And I have never once seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Butterflies dance against my stomach. I keep my expression neutral with some effort. “We’re colleagues. Allies working the same problem.”

“Sure.”

“The situation created proximity. That’s all.”