Bastian
At work, I was knee-deep in paperwork when Ben came into my office, looking more serious than usual. I glanced up from my desk, recognizing that expression. Something was weighing heavily on his mind, and from the way his brow was furrowed, it wasn’t just about work.
“Bastian,” he said, standing by the door. “Got a minute?”
I motioned for him to come in, setting my pen down and leaning back in my chair. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
He sat down across from me, a file in his hand, though he didn’t immediately open it. We discussed a few work projects that needed finalizing—a land development in the northern territories, some budget approvals for the new housing units for the pack—but I could tell something else was pressing on him.
When we finished talking shop, Ben glanced
