By the time I made it back inside the packhouse, my body felt hollowed out and packed full of smoke, and every breath still carried dirt and blood and the taste of a fight that had ended without ending anything at all. The hallways were too loud and too quiet at the same time.
Voices moved through the walls in sharp bursts, footsteps crossed overhead, and somewhere deeper in the house two warriors argued loud enough that I could not make out words, only tone, only friction, only the fact that the challenge had not settled anything and everyone knew it.
I followed the bond because that was easier than deciding where I belonged, and it led me through the back corridor toward Ezra’s office suite where the private washroom sat just beyond the door. I stopped in the doorway and did not announ
