[Caelan POV]
The digital clock on the heavy mahogany desk read two-forty in the morning. Caelan stood by the unlit hearth in his private quarters, staring at the cold, blackened stones. He had not slept. He had not even attempted to lie down since returning to his rooms four hours ago. Sleep required a loosening of the mind, a lowering of the defensive perimeter that wrapped around his consciousness, and tonight, that perimeter was rigid. It was calcified.
The Pack house was entirely silent, save for the ambient settling of ancient timber and stone. At this hour, the Ashmark estate was a dormant fortress. The patrols were running their designated perimeter routes outside, the administrative floors were locked and dark, and the resident Alphas and Betas were submerged in rest. Caelan knew
