Xander's POV
I stripped off my leather jacket the moment I hit my quarters, letting it fall wherever it wanted. My body crashed onto the mattress like dead weight, every muscle screaming from exhaustion. I dragged both hands through my hair and let out a breath that carried all the day's bullshit with it.
God, I needed to talk to someone. Anyone who could help me make sense of the mess rattling around in my skull. Problem was, my go-to guys were absolute shit options for this particular crisis. Killian had ripped his own mate bond apart on purpose—asking him about fated connections would be like asking a recovering alcoholic for bar recommendations. And Kenji? That bastard was so head-over-heels for Seraphina he couldn't hold a conversation without gushing about their perfect little love story.
