Alpha Terrell's POV
The room was very quiet for a moment as I pondered on why Agnes would be looking at my horse.
That is, if she knew the horse was mine.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized her actions only meant one thing.
She was buying time.
"She's not trying to accept us," I said.
"No," Merrick agreed. "She's not."
"The condition…"
"Is real," he said. "That part's real. The child is real and the grief is real and if you can give her that, it will matter." He leaned forward slightly. "But she's not waiting. She's moving, Terrell. She has been since she arrived. From the storeroom, to the stables, and now her request. She's been gathering information and building a picture this entire time and we have been," he gestured between us, "somewhat behind."
I looked at my desk.
At the maps on the walls, thinking about how this small woman had already sized it up in forty-eight hours.
"You're supposed to be managing this," I said.
"I am managing it…"
