The dark and hollow hours of Christmas morning brought no peace, no quiet, and certainly no celebration to the ones present on the floors of Aldrith Corp, where nobody had truly slept in days. The holiday had become entirely meaningless in the wake of Azaria's sudden disappearance, swallowed whole by a suffocating cloud of dread that hung over every room.
Theon stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window of his office, staring blankly out at the frozen city skyline as the pale grey light of dawn slowly began to push back the shadows. He was completely running on empty, his physical and emotional reserves drained to the absolute limit, his shirt crumpled and unbuttoned at the collar, and his grey eyes were bloodshot with fatigue. Beneath the deep exhaustion, the strain of the mate bond pulled at his chest like a jagged hook, agonizing and painful, but his wolf kept a tight grip on his mind, refusing to let him falter.
