Reed POV:
The second I storm back into her room, I already know the damn leech beat me to it. He's perched by the window like some smug, undead gargoyle, and there she is—still curled up just the way I left her, like a fragile little heartbeat in a world full of predators.
My wolf's already clawing at my skin, fangs itching to sink into that cold bastard's throat. I don't even have to speak before he's growling through my mouth, voice sharp and full of rage.
"What did you do to her?"
Her.
He said her. He fucking knows.
The words hit me like a slap, like ice water to the face. He knows. That blood-sucking freak already knows she's not a boy. Which means... fuck.
He touch her
Did he hurt her?
My stomach twists with something worse than fury—it's panic. Pure, searing panic that makes my wolf thrash harder, makes my hands curl into claws, makes my vision tint with red.
She was already bleeding . And crying in pain.
