Why Does Zane Wear A Mask Over His Mouth นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I kept swallowing saliva and rubbing my neck hoping to push it down as if it were something physical that could simply be fixed by drinking water or swallowing saliva. “My mom asked me to bring you these clothes and shoes.” Said Zane coming in. I didn’t move. He crossed the room and placed the clothes on the bed. He then came up to me and wiped tears on my cheek I didn’t even know had fallen. I had been crying the whole time laying there and didn’t even notice.

We hold eye contact for long seconds until I finally speak. "Morning." "Good morning." He reaches his hand up and brushes my hair off my face then tucks it behind my ear. "Are you okay?" He asks. "Yeah, just a small headache." He nods. "I'll get you some pain killers." I watch him walk his way around the room with so much confidence in his boxer briefs. **Later**

She really shouldn’t let him get to her, but in that way, he reminded her of Cadon, always clawing right beneath the surface of her skin. Wearing the scandium skin, as Emma had taken to calling it, under his uniform, Zane looked a little more stealthy than usual. He had a face shield that he would put on, too, once they arrived. Emma had done plenty of testing to make sure that the materials were what they needed to be to fight the new bullets.

He was wearing a dark hoodie that covered most of his upper body, yet his frame was unmistakable. “Shh,” Zane said again. His palm was still over my mouth. “Relax,” he whispered quietly. His other arm was around my waist, fingers stroking the arc of my back softly. His body was on mine. We stayed like that for a full minute until he peeked out from the wall to check if anyone was looking for us. No one. Not a sound. My breath was hurried, my chest heaving dramatically. Zane noticed the tightness of my body. “Amara, relax. They are gone.”

The question is, will I survive? The guard suddenly rushes in. He points at me and throws me something, which I quickly catch. “Put that on. Alpha Zao wants to see that on you.” “What…is it?” I ask, standing up. “A mask? I don’t know,” he says with anger. I look at it. It’s a tasseled nose‑and‑mouth mask. The dangling tassels are made with rhinestones, and the bottom part curves into a V shape that frames my jaw and chin when I put it on.

He alerted his team and assured me that everything was fine there. I walked towards the door but stopped immediately when something caught my eyes. Some black fabric was hanging behind the frame. Jacob's a minimalist when it comes to his home decorations. I turned and walked to the frame hanging on the wall. I carefully removed it. "Bloody hell." I murmured as I saw Mamba's mask. I gulped. Jacob saw it. He has the mask all along and he never mentioned or asked anything about it. I removed the mask on the hook and hid it in my jacket's secret pocket.

And why the hell does he have to look like that? Zane isn’t dressed for training the way the rest of the pack is. No loose tank. No standard issue gear. He’s wearing fitted black combat pants that sit low on his hips, clinging to thick thighs like they were designed specifically to remind women why self-control is a myth. And that outline of his package… holy hell. I’m fucking salivating. I swear my beast is purring in my head. A dark long-sleeve compression shirt moulds to his torso, stretched tight over his broad shoulders and chest. The pack sigil is stamped over his heart.

He hissed in the most patient voice he could muster, swearing at the wake, hence throwing the content of his glass down his throat. Zane huffed, unfolded his hand and sauntered forward. Today he was smartly dressed-as usual- in his brown breeches, complemented with a clean white loose shirt which he held together with a black vested coat and black bow tie. On his head was his new love, the papas cap which often times than not annoyed Milan to no end. "I think we should talk to their leader."

“Did anyone recognize you?” Zane flashed a wide smile, revealing his gums. “Not at all,” he said, smug satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He turned on his heel dramatically, letting the cloak swirl around him. “I was nervous at first, sure. But now?” His grin deepened as he tapped his chest. “I feel invincible. Perfectly capable of carrying myself. After all…” He sprawled across Yeonho’s bed as though it were a throne, folding his arms behind his head. “All those years in the mafia paid off.”

It doesn’t make him less of a bad person. It doesn’t mean I owe him anything but the mask I’ve chosen to wear—the poised smile, the cool stare, the graceful nod in meetings. Zane stirred, and I turned to watch him as his eyes fluttered open. “Mommy?” I knelt beside him. “Yes, baby?” His eyes blinked open slowly. “Did Mr. Anderson leave?” I nodded. “He had to go back to work.” Zane yawned and rubbed his eyes. “He’s nice.”