SHADOWCLAW — ALPHA'S PRIVATE CHAMBERS
Serena woke in a bed that should have rejected her.
The sheets smelled like Fin. Pine and iron and the particular warmth that belonged to one man in any kingdom on any continent. The pillow beneath her head had been adjusted, positioned at the angle her neck needed, placed by hands that knew the architecture of her sleep better than she did.
She knew this room the way lungs know oxygen. She had fallen asleep in this room dozens of times, pressed against the chest of a man whose heartbeat was the closest thing to a lullaby she'd ever allowed herself. She had memorized the shadows on the ceiling. She had counted the seconds between his exhales.
She also remembered the last words Finnick Shadowclaw had spoken to her in this castle.
Get the fuck out.
The words lived in her ribs like shrapnel. Still there. Still sharp. Still cutting every time she inhaled too deep.
Arms were around her.
