RETT POV
My internal clock is a menace.
It doesn’t care if it’s my day off. Doesn’t care that I stayed up till past midnight reading some random forum about werewolf metabolism and sleep cycles. Nope. At exactly 5:32 a.m., my eyes snapped open like I was due for patrol. No alarms, no sounds—just pure, unfiltered instinct dragging me out of bed like a soldier in a war we weren’t even fighting today.
I sighed, rolled onto my side, and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending that if I stayed still long enough, I might fall back asleep.
Didn’t happen.
With the grace of a man thirty years older than I was, I pulled myself upright, cracked my neck, and padded toward the kitchen in socks and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days.
Coffee first. Sanity second.
By the time
