The first full day of Roxy's return to the physical world did not begin with the chaotic, overwhelming warmth she had desperately craved. It began with a deafening, suffocating silence.
The pale winter sunlight crept slowly across the floorboards of the master bedroom, illuminating the empty spaces where her towering, overprotective Alpha Kings usually stood. The heavy mahogany doors remained completely, entirely shut. There was no deep, rumbling laughter from the hallway. There was no heavy scent of draconic ozone or crisp northern ice pushing under the doorframe.
True to the promise they had made to Iris the night before, the Vanguard Warlords were giving their Matriarch space to rest. They were staying away.
But to Roxy, lying amidst the tangled dire-wolf pelts with her heart completely shattered by guilt, the respectful distance felt like an absolute, devastating punishment.
