Reed's POV:
Clare's cries shattered the fog's hold on me completely. It was as though a dam had broken inside me, flooding me with an overwhelming need to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of whatever the banshees had just shown her. The guilt, the haunting memories of my own failures, faded for a moment—pushed aside by the primal need to save her.
The fog began to thin, evaporating in the wake of the raw emotion that surged through me. But even as I fought to regain my focus, the only thing I could see was her. Clare.
I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. All that mattered was reaching her, pulling her from the wreckage of what the banshees had done to her. I shifted back, my wolf form retreating, but the process wasn't clean. I managed to keep my pants on, but shifting back while wearing clothes was always a challenge. The clothes had never been made for shifting. Hell, I was still learning how to make that work.
