**AXEL**
Waiting is worse than running, because movement lets anger burn itself down into something sharp and usable, while waiting just lets it pool and rot under your skin until every second feels like a personal failure. Atticus and I have warriors planted all through the human town, spaced carefully enough not to draw attention but close enough that nothing moves without us knowing about it, and still the days drag on with no sign of Devin, no scent, no trace, nothing but absence and the constant ache of Bella’s bond humming faintly in the background like a wound that refuses to close.
She’s alive.
I know that with a certainty that sits deep in my bones, because the bond hasn’t snapped or gone quiet, it’s just muted and strained, like someone has wrapped it in layers of cloth and po
