When Killorn returned from his nightly patrol, he found his thrashing wife. She was entangled in the thick comforters, her limbs fighting for her life. He rushed forward, but she snapped awake and hollered. He snatched her into his embrace, pressing his lips against her head.
"No!" Ophelia wailed in fear, thrashing against him.
Killorn tightened his grip. He hugged her as if his life depended on it. He could only shelter her from the nightmares threatening to tear her sanity apart. She screamed and cried into his chest, hiccuping and grabbing tightly onto his chest.
"Shhh…" Killorn was terrible at comforting people. He was meant to be the ruthless Alpha. The cruelest of them all, the one that'd never blink at the sight of trouble. His reputation never beseech him. He was far worse than what the people portrayed him to be. Punishing his own wife, tossing her to the animals, he had done the unspeakable.
