I wake before the alarm.
Not because I’m rested. Because my body refuses to stay still.
For a few seconds I lie there staring at the ceiling, listening to the packhouse breathe around me. Pipes tick behind the walls. A door opens somewhere down the hall. Footsteps pass, measured and familiar. Early patrol rotation. My wolf stirs under my skin, not agitated, just awake in that tense way that keeps my muscles half ready even when I’m horizontal.
Landon is still asleep beside me.
His presence presses warm and steady at my back, his arm heavy around my waist. The bond hums low between us, not demanding, just there, like a current that never fully switches off. Lately it has felt louder at night. Not frantic. Just crowded. Like too many thoughts trying to move through the same narrow space.
