SLOANE
It's been Six weeks.
Six weeks since the night everything stopped making sense.
Six weeks since I watched Damon walk out of that room with his eyes red and his hands shaking, and I already knew before he opened his mouth. I already knew because I felt it leave.
Something that had always been there, quietly tethered to me, was just gone. Like a candle going out in a room you forgot was lit until the dark came.
I hadn't left my room properly since.
The pack was thriving. That was the word everyone kept using. Meetings were being held, territory disputes settled, the Ghost Riders were stronger than they'd been in years.
The mansion smelled like food, like engine oil, like people who had things to do. Life was picking up and carrying itself forward the way it always did, indif
