The matebond was a bridge that ran both directions, which meant crying alone required a head start, a decoy emotion, and a room so forgettable that two overprotective Alpha Kings hadn't bothered to memorize its location yet.
The storage room on the third floor had been theirs since the first week.
No one used it. No one cleaned it. The stone was cold, the lighting was terrible, and the single window was so narrow it barely qualified as architectural. It was, by every objective measure, the worst room in Drakenfell.
It was also the only room in this castle where Serena Frostborne could fall apart without an audience.
Elara closed the door behind them. Onyx was still in Serena's arms, his gold eyes blinking slowly, tail curled around her hip, wholly unaware that the woman holding him was three seconds from breaking. He had been promised a bath. This was not a bath. This was damp and confusing.
She made it to the crate they always sat on before it hit.
