KADE
Shame is a strong word to use at this stage of my life right now.
I sat on the edge of the medical table while they cleaned the last of the blood off me, and shame was all I could feel. Not the sting of the wound at my ribs or the throb in my temple where somebody had struck the body while it wasn't mine to protect. Just the slow, heavy weight of a man realizing exactly what his pride had cost.
"You should rest," the medic said, taping the bandage flat. "At least an hour."
"No." I stood before he finished. "I want my son. I want my mate. In that order, and I want them now."
He didn't argue. Nobody argued with me tonight, maybe they saw something in my face they didn't want to test.
They handed me clean clothes. A grey shirt, dark jeans, soft cotton that didn't smell like anyone
