The morning came heavy, pressing against my chest like a weight.
I woke up before dawn again not because I wanted to, but because my body had forgotten what peace felt like. The quiet was too sharp, the kind that carved into you until you moved just to stop hearing it.
My dreams had been strange. Shadows whispering my name, the faint hum of a voice that sounded like him low, taunting, half amusement, half warning. When I opened my eyes, my heart was already racing.
The others were still asleep in the omega's quarters. Their soft breathing filled the room, but I couldn't join them in that fragile peace. I got up quietly, wrapped my shawl around my shoulders, and slipped out before anyone noticed.
The hallways were cold. The pack house always felt colder in the morning as if the walls themselves were afraid to wake. I walked quickly toward the kitchen, my steps soft but hurried.
