Page 8 of Cold Moon

Now, I wasn’t sure what to watch, but I was alone in the clinic and I couldn’t stand to sleep anymore. Couldn’t stand the silence either.

I wouldn’t have minded an old episode ofThe Magic School Bus, but the first thing that came on was an interview segment. There was a red bar at the bottom of the screen, highlighting the participants’ names: Senator Conroy Doherty, and Jedediah Sterling, CEO of the Sterling Corporation.

I would have changed the channel, except that when I read the name, “Sterling,” I heard it in Skye’s worried, exasperated voice. The company meant something to the Grove pack, and I wanted to know what.

“Are you saying you’re not responsible for the health of every American citizen who consumes your products?” Senator Doherty asked Sterling, a blond brow raised in an expression that was absolutely chilling.

Both men on the screen were wearing beautiful gray suits and nondescript ties, and their faces looked so baby smooth that they probably had someone there to shave their chins for them.

“I’m saying that, while we have no concrete evidence that any Sterling product has an adverse effect on werewolf physiology, the closed-off nature of werewolf communities around the nation would make it impossible for us to study the long-term impacts of Sterling products on werewolf health. And Iwouldpoint out that through our company’s innovation in the fields of agriculture and health sciences, we’ve seen an uptick in access to fresh food in neighborhood markets, a fifteen percent reduction in the occurrence of food deserts in predominantly human communities, and we’re working with public school systems to reduce childhood poverty and starvation.”

The senator crossed his hands on the table and leaned in. “So you’re saying it’s the responsibility of werewolves alone to look after our own communities?”

“I’msayingthat without evidence, there’s no reason to believe that Sterling food products pose any risk to human or werewolf well-being, and that your son’s hit piece inThe Posthardly undoes my company’s decades of good work.”

“Now, gentlemen,” the moderator interrupted. He was a generically handsome brunette man with an easy smile, clearly there to turn the burner down when things got heated. “Let’s keep things civil.”

The door of the clinic opened, and I clicked off the television as soon as I saw Skye poke his head in the door. Whatever was going on with Sterling, it seemed to matter to him. I didn’t want to cause any upset—not that I thought he’d go off about it, exactly, but best not to rock the boat.

He glanced at Alpha Grove’s empty desk, and I did too. The alpha had only been in for a few minutes that morning, had left his number on a post it on my table in case I needed anything. He was making house calls—said he’d bring me back lunch though. That was nice. I was looking forward to eating something solid.

He wouldn’t like that Skye was there though. Skye and I both seemed to know that, and shared a nervous shrug when our eyes met.

I’d been in the clinic for almost a week, and Alpha Grove had hardly left Skye alone with me for a handful of minutes. Couldn’t blame him, really. He was trying to keep his pack safe, and when I said I owed him my life, he had no reason to trust that I meant it seriously.

Much as I wanted to deny that I was a threat, I wasn’t just a Reid wolf, I was Maxim Reid’s son. From where Alpha Grove sat, that made me a kidnapper, a rapist, and a murderer—or at least the spawn of one. The only way to convince him that I was anything different was to be patient and wait for him to see for himself that I didn’t have vengeance in mind, that I wasn’t like my father.

If I was different at all... Sometimes, it was hard to think I was anything but the place and people I’d grown up with.

“Going to work on your blog?” I asked from the bed, placing my empty hands on the blankets on top of me where he could see them. Alpha Grove had opened the curtains before he’d left so I could get a little sunlight.

Skye’s cheeks colored and he fiddled with his glasses.

“Actually, no. Or, well, not right now.” He came over to stand at the end of my bed, putting both hands on the plastic bedframe and squeezing. “I’ve been thinking, you should probably start trying to move around more.”

Alpha Grove had said as much—that the longer I stayed in bed at this point, the longer my recovery would be. Still, he’d been putting off pushing me, presumably because nothing good could come of a Reid back on their feet in his pack’s lands, and I’d—I hadn’t wanted to cause any issues. Better to be silent than to presume upon this pack and rush myself out the door.

I stared up at Skye. Sitting up was still a pain—something that apparently happened when your ab muscles got torn apart—and I hadn’t been motivated to walk either. Hell, I didn’t want to get out of bed when doing so meant I’d have to leave.

There was nowhere for me to go. If the Reid pack still existed, I had no place in it. I didn’t know if Cain was alive or dead. If I’d asked, Alpha Grove might think I cared. It wasn’t that; I was scared to go back and risk getting killed for showing my face in Reid territory.

While I was too hurt to leave, it was clear the Groves wouldn’t kick me out. But I wasn’t part of their pack, and the second they could be rid of me, it’d be wise of them to dump me on the side of the road like a box of unwanted kittens.

Still, Alpha Grove had moved and massaged my limbs to keep me from getting bed sores. And now, Skye was looking down at me with that kind, appeasing smile. All he wanted was to help, and I didn’t have it in me to deny him.

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, running my hand through my hair. It was matted in the back from days spent in bed. I’d showered carefully a couple times, sitting while Alpha Grove directed the stream away from my bandages. Damp hair and lying down all day didn’t make for a particularly stylish appearance.

Didn’t help that the only bit of clothing I had that wasn’t shredded and bloody was a hospital gown. It didn’t even belong to me.

“Great!” Skye bounced off to a supply closet, chattering all the while. “The sooner you can get up and moving, the easier it’ll be to heal. Already, your muscles have probably, you know—” He waved his hand around in the air, leaning into the closet and coming back with a walker.

A walker. Jesus.

“It might be harder than you’re expecting, at first. No big deal, Linden said you just want to go slow.”

He had a point. Just pushing myself to sit up and moving to the edge of the bed on my own had me in pain and out of breath.

Skye returned with the silver walker in hand and plopped it on the floor in front of me with a small frown on his face.

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