Maddox’s POV
The door to my study did not just open; it bounced off the heavy stopper as Thomas hurried inside. He smelled of rain, hot pavement, and the sour musk of a Beta who had just run a red light across the city line. His jacket was unzipped, his chest heaving as he crossed the hardwood floor and stopped dead in front of my desk.
He did not wait for me to look up from my laptop. He dropped his knees straight to the floor, forcing his forehead against the wood. His palms were flat on the grain, his shoulders trembling slightly under the weight of my silent presence.
I did not offer him permission to rise. I let the silence stretch until the wood beneath his forehead creaked.
"Speak," I growled. The sound came from the deep column of my throat, raw and abrasive.
Thomas swallowed,
