Blake’s POV
Anger had been sitting in my chest all day like a weight. I’d been ignoring it. I’d had better things to do.
But the anger was at the situation I found myself in.
I had listened to doctors tell me, again and again, that there was no hope.
No neurological function.
No chance of recovery.
Brain dead.
I could still hear the older consultant’s voice in my head, calm and impersonal, as if he was discussing a faulty engine instead of my wife.
Ex-wife. Almost ex. Didn’t matter right now.
Six months of me standing in this shitty room twice a week, looking at a stranger’s body with my wife’s face and hearing the same refrain.
She’s gone.
So why the hell had the “clinically brain dead” woman just sat up and told me she’d been murdered?
My jaw tightened.
I started walking. St
