Protect Charlie.

Kill Eric.

As Ivy chomped down on Prescott’s knife hand and caused him to drop the knife, Hank clamped a hand to his side and urged Charlie to action. “Charlie, shift and bite him.”

“I can’t,” Charlie cried, his gaze stuck on Prescott, who still held him.

Hank pulled his hand away. It was covered in blood. The silver had tainted the wound and kept it from clotting. Breathing took work. Prescott was still trying to shake Ivy loose and refused to let Charlie go. “You can do it, Charlie. I know you can. Just think like a wolf.”

Charlie closed his eyes. A second later, he was a wolf.

“You did it!” Hank nodded, his head getting lighter and lighter as blood seeped out of him. He dragged himself toward Ivy, who was still struggling with Prescott. “Now bite him and run as soon as you’re free.”

Charlie bit the hand that was holding him. Prescott released the boy. Ivy got free too, only to leap on top of Prescott and knock him down. Her teeth snapped inches from his face. Charlie took off running.

Relieved that his son was safe, Hank focused on saving his wife. He wasn’t worried she’d be hurt so much as that she’d kill the guy in front of so many witnesses. He found the knife Prescott had dropped. He managed enough strength to drive it into Prescott’s thigh.

A cry of pain rewarded him. He smiled as he fell back onto the ground. “Get him, Ivy.”

He was vaguely aware of people rushing toward him as his vision wavered. It was hard to focus on anything but the stars overhead. A dark, gargoyle-shaped form swept through the sky. Then keeping his eyes open became impossible.

“Ivy,” he managed.

Familiar, comforting voices answered him. “She’s fine. And Charlie’s with Birdie.”

Bridget maybe. Hank couldn’t think. So he closed his eyes and drifted into the darkness.

When he opened them again, everything was too bright and his head felt like it was packed with warm cotton. He squinted. Nothing looked or smelled familiar. A dull ache radiated from his side. “Where the hell am I?”

“You’re awake! You’re in the hospital.” An angel appeared in his field of vision. He realized a second later it was Ivy. His wife. He smiled as she peered down at him. “How do you feel?”

“You’re pretty.” Why was he in the hospital?

He tried to sit, but she shook her head. “I can see the morphine is still working. Now stop moving, you’ll open the stitches.”

“Stitches?” He blinked, trying to make sense of things.

She nodded. “Eric’s knife was silver plated. He meant to kill you.”

Hank let his head sink in the pillow as the memory of what happened returned in loose, unconnected scenes. “Where’s Charlie?”

“He’s fine. He’s with Birdie at the house.”

“I love that kid. I love you.”

She nodded, grinning. “I know you do.”

“Is he okay?”

“He was a little freaked out, but I told him how proud of him we are and how nothing like that is ever going to happen again.”

“That’s for damn sure. You’re a good mother. How long have I been here?”

She took his hand, her smile making him feel better. “Not long. About twelve hours. Sam’s already been released. His cut wasn’t nearly as bad as yours. The silver really knocked you out. And it’s slowing down the healing process, so you might be here overnight.”

He frowned. Twelve hours. “We missed the Zombie Prom.”

“That’s okay. There’s always next year.”

He started to get out of bed. She grabbed his arm. “What part of you might have to be here overnight don’t you understand?”

“Like hell. I’m not staying overnight. I might have to arrest someone.”

A little trill of laughter escaped her. “Oh, this is fun.”

“What?”

“You. You’re highly amusing on morphine. I wasn’t expecting that.”

He peered at her. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes.” She kissed his forehead. “Because I love you,” she whispered.

“Hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

She sat back. “What?”

“We’re married.” He grinned. “We’re going to have sex later.”

She snorted softly. “Maybe not today.”

He blinked at her, feeling a little sad. “Why not?”

“Stitches, remember?”

Stitches. Where had he gotten those again? “What happened to…?” His head was too fuzzy to think right.

“Eric?” she offered.

He nodded. “I don’t like him.”

“No one does. He’s in another room with stitches of his own. When he’s capable of leaving, Sam and Titus will be taking him to lockup because, while bringing a knife to the challenge wasn’t against the rules, using silver against another shifter violates pack law. He’ll be going to tribunal along with the Jenkins brothers.”

“You attacked him.”

“You helped.” She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “If only we could link all this to my father, too.”

Hank laced his fingers through hers. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe I should get to the station.”

“Not today, Sheriff.”

He closed his eyes as the morphine overtook him.