“You should have told me.” I say finally.
“You would have reacted like this.” He answers.
“Yes.” I snap. “Because I am bonded to you.”
His eyes flash, not with anger but with something closer to frustration.
“And I am Alpha.” He shoots back. “I cannot bleed openly every time something scratches me.”
“You are not bleeding openly.” I argue. “You are bleeding alone.”
The words land harder than I expect them to, and he looks at me like I just stripped something protective away.
“You think I do not know that.” He says quietly.
The anger that carried me here shifts into something heavier and more complicated, because beneath the control and authority I can feel the strain, and it threads through the bond like static.
“You cannot carry everything yourself.” I say.
“I have to.” He replie
