Third Person's POV
"Fine! We're leaving! Now!" Mortimer barked, pointing a finger at the passenger seat. "And get in the front. I'm not your damn chauffeur."
Seraphina shrugged. She wasn't going to waste oxygen on a seating chart. She walked around the hood, pulled the door open, and climbed in.
The drive back to the Blade pack estate was a masterclass in awkward tension. Mortimer sat behind the wheel, pouting like a child, throwing periodic, sideways glares at her.
Deep down, a pathetic, delusional part of him was waiting for it—waiting for Seraphina to break the silence with a soft word, a gentle touch, or any sign that she still cared enough to soothe him.
Just one sentence would have worked.
But the woman next to him was glued to her phone. She didn't grant him a single glance.
