Mortimer's POV
After I left Rolf's room, I headed back toward the surgical wing where Seraphina's office was.
I'd checked her schedule—no surgeries this morning, just patient consultations.
But when I got there, the hallway was a mess. The benches were packed, and the air was a thick, vibrating soup of random pheromones.
I stood in the corridor for a minute, then turned on my heel and walked away.
I was acting like a freak. My obsession with Seraphina lately was getting out of hand, and it wasn't my style.
But every time I pictured that cold, dead look in her eyes, my usual "Alpha in control" confidence felt like a popped balloon.
I hated it. It felt like something was sliding out of my grip, and I was fumbling in the dark to catch it.
Barton didn't help; he just let out a mocking
