Silas looked at the hand stretched out toward him, the plastic crinkling softly in the quiet hallway. He swallowed hard, the movement of his throat tight and visible, before his large, scarred fingers brushed against hers to take the bag. The brief contact felt like a lightning strike. "Thank you, Alpha," he murmured, his voice thick.Elara didn't pull her hand away immediately; she stood her ground, sizing him up with her eyes. She was looking for cracks in his armor, looking for the man who had trembled in her arms, but all she saw was the rigid, stoic soldier she was supposed to trust.Then, she caught movement at the end of the hall. Calvin was standing there, his silhouette sharp against the marble. His eyes traveled from Elara’s face down to Silas’s hand, which quickly shoved the pharmacy bag into his trouser pocket. Calvin began to approach, his stride slow and predatory."What's going on?" he asked. The question hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken interrogation: *What d
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