Kael's POV
The distance between Hazel and me felt like a physical wound. Each mile that separated us made my wolf restless, pacing within our shared consciousness. The bond between us pulsed like an open nerve—raw and exposed.
I stood in the center of Elara's house, taking in every detail with critical eyes. Something wasn't right.
The place was immaculate. Too immaculate. Nothing was out of place—not a cushion, not a book, not even a speck of dust. The kitchen gleamed with unused appliances. The living room furniture looked arranged for a magazine photoshoot rather than actual living.
"No one lives here," I muttered, running my finger along a shelf. Not a single fingerprint disturbed the perfect surface.
I moved to the refrigerator and yanked it open. Empty except for basic condiments and a carton of milk. The expiration date was still weeks away. The pantry told the same story—minimal supplies, nothing half-used or opened.
This wasn't a home. It was a stage set.
