The answers do not arrive like revelations. They surface quietly, piece by piece, sliding into place with the same unsettling calm that has been haunting the pack for days, and I wake with the strange certainty that nothing new is about to happen, only that I am finally about to understand what already has. The bond hums low and steady beneath my ribs, not warning and not soothing, just present, as if it has been waiting for my mind to catch up.
Adam is awake before me, sitting against the headboard with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at the far wall with the kind of focus that tells me he has been thinking for hours. When he senses me stirring, his gaze shifts instantly, sharp and intent.
“You see it too,” he says.
I nod, sitting up slowly. “Not all of it. But enough.”
We
