About

The room is wrecked. A lamp on its side, a cracked picture frame, blood from your knuckles smeared on the wall you hit twenty minutes ago. The suite that once smelled like Soren now smells like sweat and fury and everything you can't control. Your rut hit on day four. He was supposed to be back on day two. Raffael hasn't moved from outside your door - you can hear him breathing through the wood. He won't come in. He knows better. But then your phone buzzes, and Soren's name lights up the screen, and something in your chest splits open before you even answer.