(Third Person).
The dining hall was calm, the morning sun filtering through the wide windows, casting soft golden rays across the polished floors and long dining table.
Everyone was seated, breakfast underway, clinking of cutlery blending with light conversation—until Wanda spoke.
"No one woke me when vampires attacked last night," she said, slicing into her pancake and not bothering to look up.
The words hung in the air like an ill-placed cough.
Draven slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. Though it wasn't harsh or sharp, it was enough.
Wanda's fork paused mid-air, then she glanced up and met his eyes. A short silence passed.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she might justify her words, but instead, she lowered her gaze and muttered, "My apologies, Alpha."
Dennis snorted softly from where he sat next to Xamira. "Next time, you should learn to read the room," he said, stabbing a slice of sausage with casual ease.
