Days blur together until Seraphina loses count. Her world is narrowed to the hard geometry of the Alpha’s quarters: bed, rug, desk, door. Her hours are simple—clean, serve, stay invisible. Kael leaves early, returns late, sometimes not at all. In the space between, she memorizes the shifting patterns of light on the walls, the cold rush of air that snakes through the cracked window, the subtle changes in Kael’s gait when he returns each night.He’s never drunk, never disorderly. But each evening, his exhaustion is a little deeper, his stare a little more splintered. She hears him in the dead hours, pacing the floors above, muttering to someone only he can see. By day, he speaks to her only in commands. "Change the sheets," he says, or "Bring tea." She does as she’s told, tongue bitten bloody to keep from replying.Sometimes, when he’s gone, she imagines running. But the guards are always in the hall, and the only window is barred. She tries to push hope aside and focus on surviving th
Huling Na-update : 2025-09-10
Mag-log in
