Romance

  Brett&#39;s Perspective
  You can get used to the smell of hospital antiseptic after a while. But I&#39;d long since moved out of the private observation room. It was too quiet. Too much like a cage, even a comfortable one. I&#39;d pestered the nurses until they moved Scarface and Luka into a larger shared room with me.
  The reason? &quot;Group therapy for psychological recovery.&quot; Bullshit. I just didn&#39;t want to be alone.
  The gruesome scar on Scarface&#39;s jaw had healed considerably under the med-pod and pack salves, but the mark remained stark. He was a man of few words, mostly leaning against his pillows, staring out the window or cleaning a dagger he&#39;d somehow acquired. Luka was younger, recovering his energy faster, always restless. He&#39;d pace the room softly to stay loose or try to engage Scarface or me in conversation, his eyes always gleaming with restless l

  Lex&#39;s Perspective
  The burning haze from the whiskey clashed with the cold night air, turning into a dull throbbing at my temples and a deeper, gnawing agitation. I&#39;d left Marta&#39;s bar without calling a car, wanting to walk, to let the cold wind scour away the sting of Aurora&#39;s sharp words and the… self-doubt they&#39;d stirred.
  What did she know? She had no idea what it was like, positioned where I was, under that constant weight of scrutiny. Father seemed to give me space, but he was observing every meeting, every decision. The uncles all had their own agendas.
  There was so much to learn. Pack history, diplomatic games, resource management, threat assessment… and how to be a competent, even exceptional Alpha who could lead the pack through increasingly uncertain times.
  And my sister? All she wanted was to break every chain, prove herself through danger.
  Brett 

  Aurora&#39;s Perspective
  The argument that ended so badly became a persistent thorn, pricking the days that followed with awkward silences between Lex and me. We still lived under the same roof, crossed paths at the dining table, passed each other on the training grounds, but something fundamental had shifted. I was no longer the sister he could casually tease or occasionally scold. He was no longer the brother I instinctively protected, thinking he just needed guidance. A sharp, fundamental disagreement on *what our future should be* now lay between us.
  In some ways, I still did as I pleased. Turn me into the demure, reserved young lady Mother and the elder women expected? Not a chance. I still trained myself to exhaustion, sparred with members of the guard who respected my skills, spoke sharply, and carried myself with defiance.
  But in other ways, I learned to compromise. Or mo

Brett&#39;s Perspective
  You can get used to the smell of hospital antiseptic after a while. But I&#39;d long since moved out of the private observation room. It was too quiet. Too much like a cage, even a comfortable one. I&#39;d pestered the nurses until they moved Scarface and Luka into a larger shared room with me.
  The reason? &quot;Group therapy for psychological recovery.&quot; Bullshit. I just didn&#39;t want to be alone.
  The gruesome scar on Scarface&#39;s jaw had healed considerably under the med-pod and pack salves, but the mark remained stark. He was a man of few words, mostly leaning against his pillows, staring out the window or cleaning a dagger he&#39;d somehow acquired. Luka was younger, recovering his energy faster, always restless. He&#39;d pace the room softly to stay loose or try to engage Scarface or me in conversation, his eyes always gleaming with restless light.
  We hung out together. That was the right term. It wasn&#39;t just about healing. It was mo

Chapter 275