“No, no, no, not right now, Reid!”
I ran to him. I shook his shoulders. I took his face in my hands and I begged him to look at me, but of course, my pleas fell on deaf ears. All the while, my Wolf was whimpering pitifully.
“Nat,” Silas said softly, from where he still remained a few feet away, holding the box of pistols, “we have to get him home.”
My mind was reeling. A torrent of conflicting emotions swirled within me, and my Wolf’s unrelenting cries made my brain feel even fuzzier.
Still, Silas was right. We’d quickly come to realize that when Reid checked out, it was urgent that we hide his unfortunate, incapacitated state from the public.
Initially, I thought it was necessary to do so simply because we couldn’t have our people thinking there was something wrong with their Alpha.
