Third Person P.O.V.
Mason had been retrieved. After days of anguish and sleepless nights, the man they had risked everything for was finally back in the safety of the pack house. But something crucial still lingered in the shadows—he wasn’t truly back. His body may have crossed the threshold, but his spirit, his soul, his essence—remained lost.
He sat among them but was not with them.
Each friend, each familiar face greeted him with hope and gentle warmth, but he stared blankly through them. There were no words. No recognition. His silences were heavier than screams.
Moments passed when they could swear something shifted in his eyes. The slightest twitch of memory, a heartbeat of familiarity. And then—nothing. Like a dream that slipped away the moment you opened your eyes.
Mason kept
