Silvana woke up in the late afternoon with a pounding hangover.
She rustled in the armchair she'd passed out in, batting a hand against the cold sweat at her collar. Maybe it was just too much of the good scotch, but Silvana's sleep was plagued with nightmares about Bruce, his body writhing in agony.
For a moment and in her sleep, right before she had woken up to the fireplace beside her and with the fuzzy blanket on top of her, she had thought she heard Bruce growling her name, as if he was so close yet so far to her that she could hear his voice ever so slightly.
Then, her phone pinged with a text from Amelia: “Kurt got back from the werewolf pack meeting and Bruce wasn't there. Is he with you?"
Silvana slogged out from her chair and stumbled around for her footing.
Last night h
