I watched as Vincent and Winter slipped out of the chamber, the heavy door clicking shut behind them like a final breath. The sound echoed in my chest, stirring something uneasy, a whisper of dread that I couldn't quite shake. The room felt emptier without them, the morning light filtering through the windows suddenly too bright, too harsh. Nicholas stood beside me, his dark eyes still lingering on the door, that brooding intensity of his softened by the lingering warmth of our mates' promises.
"Hey, Kat," he said, turning to me with that cocky grin that always made my heart skip a beat, even on days like this. His black hair fell messily over his forehead, and he ran a hand through it, trying to play it casual. "What do you say we sneak down to the kitchen? See what's cooking for breakfast. Maybe swipe a few pastries before the servants catch on. You know, like old times."
