That night, long after the last notes of music had faded and the final guests had departed, the grand packhouse settled into a deceptive quiet. But a thick, almost tangible tension pulsed behind the closed doors of the Alpha quarters, a silent storm brewing.
Kyson stood by the wide window, his arms crossed over his formidable chest, his gaze fixed on the moonlit trees beyond, their shadows dancing in the gentle breeze. His jaw ticked, a muscle clenching rhythmically, betraying the turmoil within. His shoulders were tense, a rigid line of protective fury.
Xander, a coiled spring of restless energy, was pacing in slow, restless strides behind the plush velvet couch, muttering under his breath, a low, frustrated growl. “He wasn’t just making polite conversation, Kyson. He was probing. Watc
