Reed POV:
The moment I tore open his hoodie—
I froze.
My half-shifted hand, claws mid-air, caught in the pause of pure confusion.
Wrapped chest. Bandages. Tight and purposeful.
My first thought?
He's hurt.
But no... there was no scent of blood, no injury—just a soft, unmistakable outline beneath the fabric.
Bulges. Rounded. Firm. Pressed down but not hidden well enough now.
My eyes widened, my heart lurched like it missed a beat. My claws twitched, almost retreating.
"Boobs?"
My dumbass wolf echoed in my head, stunned stupid.
I blinked. "You have boobs?"
The words stumbled out of me, choked with disbelief.
This had to be a joke.
A hallucination.
A spell?
No... I could see them, and I sure as hell could smell the truth now that the illusion was cracking.
But still—I needed proof.
Because my brain, my pride, my wolf—none of them were processing this shit right.
So, like the fucking psycho I am—I grabbed the edge of the bandages and ripped.
Rip.
