I woke with tension still threaded through me, clinging beneath my skin long after sleep should have burned it away.
Rest hadn’t helped. The room carried a low hum, the distant rhythm of another pack moving through its day, footsteps crossing halls, voices drifting somewhere deeper in the house. Usually, that kind of sound settled something inside me.
Today it only reminded me how fragile everything felt.
Memory followed quickly after that, heavy enough to tighten my chest before I had even fully opened my eyes. I pushed myself upright slowly, aware of every shift in balance, every small movement, waiting for that force to rise again the second I let my guard slip.
My attention drifted toward the chair beside the bed.
Clothes had been laid out neatly, practical and unfamiliar. The mom
