Mara
We made our way to the right-wing breakfast lounge, and the moment we stepped inside, the air changed.
Alpha Vander was already seated, slouched, really. Still in his pyjamas. His beard had grown wild, his hair long and matted. He looked like a man who had stopped trying. The faint stench of alcohol clung to him, sharp and sour.
He hadn’t showered. I was sure of it.
I sat down but instantly regretted it. I couldn’t stomach breakfast like this.
Lydia and Katyah exchanged quiet, worried glances. Even baby Emma seemed to sense something wasn’t right. Darian and Tiffany looked equally tense. The whole lounge felt hollow, like the light had been sucked out of it.
Vander used to be quiet at breakfast, but at least there was life in him then, especially when Martha was around to provok
