“I shouldn’t be alive.” He looked at me. “It seems it was my turn to be the patient.”

“Let’s not do that again,” I told him. “You’re so much better at being the doctor.”

Doolittle hesitated. “What kind of healing . . .”

I read the question in his eyes. He had seen me heal Julie. He’d watched my blood sear hers, cleaning it of the virus and binding her to me, and now he wanted to know if I had done something with my magic that compromised his free will. I looked into his eyes and I didn’t see gratitude or joy at being alive. I saw suspicion and fear. He was terrified that I had turned him into an abomination. In that moment I knew with complete certainty that Doolittle would rather die than be brought back to life by me.

An invisible wall slammed into place around me, cutting me off. I was still in the room. I still heard people I viewed as my friends move around, talking, but they seemed impossibly far away. I sat there, disconnected and alone.

No matter how much time I spent being a part of the Pack, no matter how much I sacrificed or how dedicated I was, Doolittle’s eyes told me that the divide between me and them would always remain. The man who’d brought me back from death time and time again now looked at me with dread, afraid of being tainted.

I forced the words out. “Just strong medmagic. The usual kind. It wasn’t me. You were healed by a medmage.” Or at least I was pretty sure Hugh would be rated as one had he bothered to apply for certification. “You’re still you, Doc.” I didn’t turn you into anything you’re not.

The tension melted from his face.

The desire to get away swelled in me, so strong that if I could’ve stood up, I would’ve walked out. I didn’t want to be in the same room with anyone. I wanted to be by myself.

George appeared, holding the saline solution and a green box. “I have the gauze.”

“Desandra first,” I told her.

George turned to Desandra. “Come with me. Time to get cleaned up.”

“But I like my war clothes.”

“If you need me to hold her down,” I growled, “I totally can do that.”

“Fine, fine.” Desandra sighed and followed George into the bathroom. They shut the door.

Doolittle looked at me. “Do you need to be restrained?”

“I’m fine.”

“Lie back, Kate.” Keira walked into the room and picked up the spare bottle of saline solution and gauze.

I hadn’t realized I was sitting. I forced myself to lie flat.

“Very well. Saturate the wounds, rinsing them with gentle pressure. Make sure no debris remains,” Doolittle said.

“Got it.” Keira poured some saline on the gauze and began to gently blot my leg.