REID’S P.O.V.
I pulled up a chair to Grady’s bedside. I leaned my elbows on the edge of the mattress. Cujo paid me no attention.
“Maybe he isn’t dead.” I frowned. “She f****d him up, but maybe she kept him alive.”
You know he couldn’t have survived what—
I don’t know what I need right now, I interrupted my Wolf, but I’m sure it isn’t your input.
Why are you trying to convince yourself he’s alive?
I don’t f*****g know.
He didn’t respond. Our newfound open line of communication following Willem’s death came with a sense for my Wolf’s emotions. The idea of him even having emotions had never crossed my mind prior—it came as a surprise. But I quickly realized he was much more in tune with his than I was with mine.
More than anything, he felt guilty about Copeland’s death. I didn’t; no
