Bella’s P.O.V.
The moon hung low outside the Pack House window, pale and watchful, casting silver shadows that kissed the floors. I was curled up in one of the large armchairs in the hallway just outside my room, my phone pressed to my ear as the faint hum of the pack’s evening lull carried through the walls. Mia’s voice crackled gently through the receiver, soft and familiar.
"So, how is he?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I sighed, a weight of exhaustion clinging to my every breath. "Still the same. Aunt Claire put him under a sleep spell to give him rest while she works her cleansing rituals. He looks... peaceful, but it’s like he's just a shell, Mia. Like the Mason I know is buried under layers of silence."
Mia exhaled a long breath. "Then you just keep doing what you
