Kane's POV:
The room was dimly lit, a soft glow casting shadows on Elena's face as she slept. Peaceful. Content.
Like she didn't just fucking shatter me.
I clenched my fists, the anger simmering under my skin. She looked so unbothered while I was out there losing my fucking mind.
Dean stood beside me, arms crossed, observing like this was some kind of amusing experiment.
She looked peaceful.
Like she wasn't tearing me apart from the inside out.
Like she wasn't out there betraying me.
My chest still burned from the phantom pain, the bond's cruel way of telling me she had given herself to someone else. It was a dull ache now, but when it first hit—sharp, brutal, consuming—I had nearly collapsed.
Now, standing here, looking at her, I wanted to shake her awake, to demand she tell me what the fuck she was thinking.
Dean, standing beside me, gave a low whistle. "Damn. She looks comfortable."
I growled. "Shut the fuck up."
