With his shirt gone, Kane’s wounds looked a lot worse. Fucking hell, what was the dumbass thinking when he decided to throw himself over Reaper? Then again, without Kane’s hasty intervention, Reaper wouldn’t be alive and breathing. “That’s the last of the fragments,” Ezra reported, placing aside his forceps and the bits of silver. With limited choices, Reaper decided to ask for Ezra’s help. Doc, the Hellhounds’ official healer, was back at the clubhouse, where Reaper couldn’t risk bringing Kane to. Mace would be there, so would the rest of his brothers. Reaper hadn’t been ready to face them yet. A series of heavy knocks on the front door of Ezra’s apartment made him jump. Shifting his feet, Reaper came closer to the couch, protective of Kane’s prone body. “Ezra, open up,” said a harsh voice behind the door. Revo, Ezra’s mate, arrived sooner than Reaper expected. Unfortunately, Revo was also the pack Beta and club VP, but Reaper knew the risks when he took Kane here.
