“Cabin fire. Emma’s kidnapper is dead. Emma has burns. Oak too.” Flint coughed.

“And you too.” Hudson jumped out of the truck and stuck his head into Flint’s. “Right, you’re all conscious. Let’s rearrange and do some triage on the way to the shifter ward back in town.”

A few minutes later, they had Oak repositioned in the back of Jack’s truck. Jack drove while Hudson gave Oak medical attention. Flint had protested for a minute, wanting Hudson to look at Emma. Then Flint and Emma were both in the back of his truck with Beck driving. Maddox sat in the front seat. Leaning over the back, he treated the burns on Emma’s arms.

“I’m fine. Take a look at the burn on Flint’s shoulder. It looks . . .” She didn’t want to say how bad it looked. The T-shirt was burned away, and when he moved, she swore his skin . . . She looked away. Emma wasn’t squeamish normally. But seeing Flint hurt made her forget her own injuries.

Maddox glanced over at Flint. Turned completely around in the truck, on his knees, he braced himself against sliding with one hand wrapped around the head rest.

“We’ve got another twenty minutes before we get to Palmer Hospital. Let me get you fixed up first.” But Maddox tossed some sterile pads to Flint.

He held on to them but didn’t put them on any of his numerous wounds.

Emma locked Flint in a stare. How could one male simultaneously appear relieved and angry?

His right leg had a long burn down one side where his jeans were frayed. Flint stretched his leg out straight, almost but not quite touching her. Emma focused on Flint trying to ignore what Maddox was doing. But the pain shot from multiple spots, mostly her hands and arm. She closed her eyes against the pain, and before she could open them again, Flint had grabbed her hand. Emma released a breath she didn’t realize she’d held.

Flint rubbed his thumb along her knuckle ridge. She concentrated on the feeling.

“Huh, I didn’t know you were mates. Makes sense.” Maddox continued to dab a cool liquid on her shoulder closest to him.

“We’re not . . .” She flicked her eyes open and glanced at Maddox.

He cocked his head to her hand.

The skin under where Flint had his thumb no longer had any redness. That didn’t mean anything. Right? Flint must have used some magic to clear the burn from her hand. But she’d taken every last bit of power from him. Neither of them had any magical power left. Emma wouldn’t until she’d slept a long time.

She closed her eyes, and when the truck stopped, Flint gathered her in his arms. Nurses and orderlies surrounded both trucks, and too soon, Flint placed her on a stretcher.

“I don’t need a stretcher,” Flint growled as he jogged next to her. “I can walk.”

“Let them treat you.” She gripped the rail of the stretcher, and he had his hand on top of hers.

“Fine,” he growled at the orderlies trying to get him to lie on a stretcher.

Mirabel appeared next to them. “Let him walk if he wants to keep injuring himself, Emma.” They shared a smile. They were already in the emergency room. Fluorescent lights flashed by on the ceiling.

“Come with me, Flint,” a male voice said.

“No, no. Bring another stretcher into the trauma room,” ordered Mirabel. “They’ll just end up in the same bed if you don’t.”

Flint willingly climbed into the new stretcher. “Move it closer to hers,” he grumbled.

“We won’t be able to work around you,” a nurse said.

“Just do it.” Mirabel’s voice faded into the background as Flint took Emma’s hand and she relaxed into a dreamless sleep.

Emma could hear voices. Loud voices. Voices of people she loved. Daphne, Shiori, Mia, even Carter. They were talking. More like yelling, really.

She opened her eyes. But Flint wasn’t in the bed next to her, and they weren’t in the emergency room anymore but back in the oak-paneled room on the top floor in the maternity ward. Under the loud voices of her friends, she could hear a baby crying.

Emma’s arms were covered in gauze. A large patch was on her shoulder too. It rubbed against the hospital gown when she turned her head, searching for the white board. It read Nurse: Mirabel Dawson, Doctor: Dr. T. Swan, Date: Tuesday February 21st, Weather: sunny.

There were two things to be happy about. One, it was sunny, and two, she’d only slept for a day instead of half a week like last time. But what worried her more was the voice rising above the rest. Flint’s. Emma gingerly pivoted her legs over the side of the bed. With a breeze only a hospital gown can give you, she made her way to the door and pulled it open. No need for shifter hearing here.

Flint came through loud and clear as she stepped into the hallway. He was addressing the large group of people in the waiting room. “So, here’s the thing. I don’t care how long you’ve known her. You don’t know her now. Old Emma, new Emma. I don’t give a damn. She’s Emma. And she’s not a child. She’s fierce and brave and more than any of us deserve. I’m sick of listening to you all.”

Emma walked closer. Mirabel’s eyes flashed at her from the nurse’s station. She cocked her head. Emma’s heart slammed in her chest like when she’d broken curfew back in middle school.

But Mirabel tilted her head to the wheelchair next to her. “Sit,” she whispered.

With Emma safely in the chair, Mirabel wheeled her closer to the waiting room next to the wall in the hall. Most of the crowd Flint addressed couldn’t see she’d joined them. Just him.

Emma squeezed Mirabel’s hand in thanks as the nurse locked the wheels in place.

“So, stop telling her what she can and can’t do. She can obviously hold her own. Without her, both Oak and I would be much worse off.”

Emma shivered, thinking of what would have happened to Oak if they hadn’t lifted the chimney keystone off him before the cabin exploded into more flames.

“It’s not that we don’t think she can⁠—”

Flint cut Shiori off. “I’m sure you think you’re a great friend, and in the past it’s even possible you were. But now? You’re shit. And unless you change how you act around Emma, and to her, I don’t want you around her anymore.”

Carter stood up. “She’s my employee. You can’t just say that.”

Emma fumbled with the lock on the wheel. But Mirabel put her hand on Emma’s shoulder and shook her head. Emma’s eyes widened, but she gave a little nod.

“She’s not your employee. She’s your whole business. Without her, you don’t have a product, let alone a company. So start treating her like it.”

“That’s right,” Daphne piped up. Emma could see Daphne’s Prada chunky loafer tapping, but nothing more of Daphne.

Flint glared at her. “You don’t want me to start on you. You’re not her mother. You’re her friend. Her power of three. Stop treating her like she might break. She won’t.”

Daphne’s toe froze to the floor. “You’re right.”

What?

Emma wasn’t the only one shocked by Daphne’s revelation.

“You’re right. Peter even told me something like that last week. I should apologize to her.”

“Yes, you should.”

The Prada shoe moved forward. “There’s something else I need to do—if you’ll let me see her?”

“I don’t know. She needs her rest.”