I did not sleep. I drifted.
There is a difference.
Sleep is surrender. Drift is vigilance disguised as rest. My body lay still, but my mind still paced, restless and urgent.
When I opened my eyes, it was still dark. The heavy velvet curtains muted the first suggestion of dawn, but I felt the hour in my bones. The estate was quiet in that charged way it becomes before movement begins—patrol shifts rotating, guards trading watch posts, warriors sharpening steel in silence.
Derek’s arm was wrapped around my waist, solid and immovable even in sleep. Jax lay at my back, one forearm draped over my hip, his fingers curled loosely into the fabric of my shirt as if instinct refused to let me stray too far.
Their body heat surrounded me.
Grounded me.
For a moment, everything felt steady.
The
