The phone rang, sharp and jarring against the quiet of the evening. I glanced at the screen, frowning when I saw the name: Greyson, one of Zayne’s colleagues from the hospital. He almost never called me directly.

“Hello?” My voice caught slightly.

There was a beat of silence, then Greyson’s voice, low and urgent. “I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this. Zayne… he was attacked. He was trying to protect someone from a group of wanderers near the clinic. He’s in emergency surgery right now.”