How did I explain that my feral mate was remembering being tortured? That his trauma was bleeding through our bond, making me feel echoes of pain I hadn't experienced? That I'd left him alone in his room because he'd asked me to, and I wasn't sure if that was the right choice?
"Stone stuff," I said finally.
"Bad Stone stuff or regular Stone stuff?"
"Is there a difference?"
Ivy considered this. "Fair point." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
“Want to sit in silence while I make inappropriate comments about passing students?”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. “That sounds… actually kind of perfect.”
“Excellent.” Ivy leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her. “See that guy by the fountain? The one with the man-bun? I’ve decided he’s secretly a vampire.”
I snorted. “How would you know? If wolves can hide in plain sight, anyone can.”
She squinted at him. “He’s very pale. And I’ve never once seen him eat in the dining hall.” She nodded, satisfied. “Suspicious.”
I let her voice wash over me, not really listening to the words but grateful for the distraction. Ivy had a gift for this—for knowing when to push and when to just be present. For filling silence with nonsense until the silence didn't feel so heavy.
"Okay," she said after a while. "I've given you your moping time. Now we're going to dinner, and you're going to eat actual food, and you're going to pretend to be a functioning human being for at least one hour."
"I'm not hungry."
"Didn't ask if you were hungry." She stood, grabbed my hand, hauled me to my feet. "Come on. I heard they have pie today."
"Pie doesn't fix everything."
"Pie fixes most things." She linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the dining hall. "The rest we figure out after dessert."
Dinner was a blur.
Ivy kept up a steady stream of conversation—gossip about classmates, complaints about professors, wild speculation aboutthe European exchange students who were supposedly arriving next month. I nodded in the right places. Pushed food around my plate. Tried to pretend I was present.
But my mind kept drifting back to Stone.
The white walls. The table. The pain.
I remember being afraid.
"Lumi."
I blinked. "What?"
Ivy was watching me with worried eyes. "You haven't heard a word I've said in the last ten minutes, have you?"
"I'm sorry. I'm just—"
"Somewhere else." She reached across the table, squeezed my hand.
Before I could respond, the bond pulsed.
Not Stone's end—James's. A flare of concern, sharp and sudden, like he'd felt something through our connection that worried him.
I looked up.
