TWO ALPHAS ONE BOND
A single narrow window was set deep into the thick wall, slicing a thin column of grey morning light that barely reached past the center of the floor.
The bed was decent, solid and not uncomfortable, but stripped bare of anything that might make it feel like home. Plain white linens, an iron frame, no softness or warmth. A small table stood nearby, with two chairs pulled up to it. In the corner, a washstand waited silently. On a shelf, three books sat with their spines turned outward: pack history, combat theory, lunar rites. Someone had chosen those carefully, but hadn’t thought about what it meant to make this room a place a person could live in.
Hot Chapters