Apollo
I was restless.
The kind of restless that crawled beneath your skin. That made every breath too shallow, every silence too loud.
Sleep had long since abandoned me. I lay in my bed—eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it might offer answers—but all I could do was feel her.
Charlie.
My mate.
Her scent still clung to the air like a spell I couldn’t break. Warm apples, sunlit cinnamon, and something innately her—something mortal and soft and vital that sank into my bones and refused to leave.
I’d paced for over an hour before I finally gave up on pretending I could stay still.
I summoned Griffin and Cyrus.
They arrived minutes later—Griffin looking half-wild with sleep, and Cyrus showing up shirtless, in nothing but a pair of loose black shorts, yawning like a bear awakened mid-hibe
