Haunted

*Maddox*

Alpha Charlton hasn’t changed that much since the last time I saw him—at the funeral.

He does have bags under his eyes that were not there before, back when he had no reason to lie awake at night and stare at the ceiling, asking why.

Back when we were all happy and full of light and hope.

I can tell when he shakes my hand he does so with reservations, and I can’t blame him. He still has unanswered questions, as do I. But from his perspective, someone who wasn’t there when everything happened, he is not only relying on what he knows of me but the rumors and whispers that began coming out of the castle right after the incident, whispers that continue to come from the castle still.

I’ve never blamed him for not fully trusting my side of the story. I still have moments when I don’t trust it myself after all.

Now, as he welcomes me back into his home, I am reminded of the feeling of excitement I had the last time I stood in the ballroom, waiting.

Waiting for her.

I follow a servan