Reed POV:
I didn't want to hurt her.
That was the only thought in my head as she came at me, eyes wild, breath ragged, the sharp stick raised like a weapon in hands that were no longer hers. Blaze's blood dripped from the jagged tip, dark and steaming against the dirt. The smell of it—vampire blood—hung heavy in the air, metallic and burning, and it made my wolf snarl inside me even as my human heart shattered at the sight of her.
Clare.
My mate.
But damn it, she was swinging that sharp stick like a wild animal, the blood still dripping from the point where it had pierced Blaze's chest. She was in a frenzy, her eyes wide with madness, her movements desperate. The banshee had its grip on her mind, pulling her into the depths of darkness. She couldn't see us anymore—couldn't see the truth. And as much as I wanted to reason with her, I couldn't.
She wasn't Clare anymore.
She was just a puppet, controlled by the monsters in the fog.
