Third Person P.O.V.
Something buzzed.
Not loud. Not disruptive. Just a faint vibration against his skin, like the low hum of a distant storm. Mason’s eyes blinked open slowly, the ceiling swimming into view as the sensation persisted on his left wrist.
He didn’t move at first. The room was quiet, draped in the shadows of early morning, the city outside asleep under a slate sky. Beside him, Veronica lay curled on her side, her back to him, her breathing deep and even. The silk sheets clung to their skin, too warm, too quiet.
The vibration stopped.
Only then did Mason shift.
He brought his left wrist into view, blinking at the sleek silver watch that rested there. The metal was cool against his skin. Familiar. But for some reason, foreign now. Something had triggered it.
Frowning, Mas
