“He’ll be picking me up from the Walker Ridge Estate, Grant. You can drop the act,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, though it felt like I was shouting into a void.Grant’s expression didn't just shift; it hardened. The air in the foyer turned glacial, the atmospheric pressure of his Alpha aura dropping so suddenly it made my lungs ache. His eyes were like jagged silver daggers, pinning me against the wall, making me feel the phantom sting of a thousand cuts.Suddenly, Grant’s hand shot up.I flinched, my eyes snapping shut as I braced for a blow or a grip that never came. When I opened them, he was simply reaching into his pocket for a casing of herbs and cedar. He lit one, the smoke curling around his face in the dim light of the VTN ROOM.“You’re a real piece of work, Mars,” he muttered, the smoke masking his scent.He never smoked inside. He was a fanatic about the purity of the den’s air. The fact that he was doing it now, standing in the middle of our shared history, told me h
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