Remi's POV
The morning sunlight filtered through the windows of the packhouse, a golden hue painting the hardwood floors. Despite the warmth of the light, a cold pit of unease settled in my stomach. Since waking, everything had felt... wrong.
Sitting at the kitchen table, my hands cupped a mug of tea that had gone stone cold an hour ago. My appetite was non-existent, but it wasn't hunger that plagued me. It was something deeper. A gnawing, insistent ache that wouldn't let go.
The house hummed with life around me—hybrids coming and going, voices rising and falling as pack members discussed patrols and daily routines. To me, it was all muffled noise, distant and irrelevant.
This was my new normal: feeling disconnected from everything and everyone, as though I was on the outside
