Chapter 123 Delilah's POV

Theo’s room smells like him—like rain and something faintly metallic, like the edge of a storm.

I’m on my knees, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the wooden floor, my hands raw and stinging from the soap.

The pack house is never clean enough for them, and neither am I. But Theo’s room is different.

It’s quieter here, softer.

The walls are lined with books, and the bed is always unmade, like he’s just rolled out of it. I don’t mind cleaning this space.

It feels like the closest I’ll ever get to being part of something.

The door creaks open, and I freeze. He’s here. I don’t look up, not right away. I keep scrubbing, even though my hands are trembling.

I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and unreadable.

“You don’t always have to do that,” Theo says, his voice low and steady.

I finally glance up, and there he is, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

He’s wearing a dark sweater that makes his hair look even lighter, almost golden in the dim light.