Third Person's POV
"Mortimer, it's bad. Vivian's had an accident. Can you get to the Shadowfang Healing Center? Now?" Connor's voice crackled over the line, his panic dialed up to a practiced, theatrical pitch.
Mortimer's brow hit a hard knot.
His reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window caught a coffee stain on his cuff—the shirt was a birthday gift from Seraphina last year. She'd mentioned once that this specific fabric needed immediate treatment if it got stained.
Barton let out an unreadable rumble in the back of his mind.
"What happened to her?" Mortimer asked, his voice a low, level rasp.
"The internet is tearing her apart, Mortimer. They're saying she's trying to wreck your mating, calling her... well, I can't even repeat the things they're saying."
Connor was talking fast,
