The room was quiet when Kyson stepped in, the soft click of the door behind him sounding louder than it should have. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting a pale glow over the space. His eyes found her immediately.
Lyra was bent over the couch, carefully spreading the blanket she always used. Her movements were slow and methodical, like muscle memory now. She fluffed the pillow, smoothing the creases as if this little ritual gave her some kind of control over everything else in her life.
Kyson stood at the doorway, watching her. Something in his chest ached, a dull weight that had settled there ever since she’d run from him earlier. He had barked at her like an Alpha proving dominance—but what had he really proven?
That he still didn't know how to talk to her without hurting he
