Raphael's POV
He was doing fine.
This was what he told himself, with the practiced conviction of someone who had been managing his own internal states for two hundred years and was extremely good at it. He was doing fine. He was present in this room, contributing appropriately to a tactical discussion, processing the situation with the analytical clarity that two centuries of survival required.
He was not thinking about Elena's apartment outside the pack. The building, fourth floor, the window that faced east and got the morning light. The way she'd described it to him once....it's small but it's mine, I made it mine....I made it for when i needed to just be away from the pack.
She had said it with the pride in her voice.
