Irina stood together with Mikhail and Sergei near the long table at the center of the hall, their heads slightly inclined toward one another as they spoke in low voices. The atmosphere inside the mansion was calm now but the weight of what had happened earlier still lingered in the air like smoke that refused to clear.
Sergei, who six hours ago had been drenched in blood and barely breathing, now stood upright as if nothing had happened to him. His broad chest rose steadily, his skin looked healthy again, and there was even color in his face. The werewolf regeneration was impressive. It was brutal and animalistic but efficient. Where a normal man would have died, Sergei had rebuilt himself from the inside out.
