The warehouse did not feel the same anymore. Tina's presence had changed the air permanently, even after she stopped moving. Vanilla mint saturated the space, sharp and overwhelming, pressing into every corner until the walls themselves felt like they were holding their breath.
Andrew stood behind her. Not hiding. Just close. His honey pheromones trembled—no longer panicked, but tight with tension, fear braided with stubborn resolve. His hands stayed over his stomach, protective without thinking, body curved inward even as his chin stayed lifted.
Elijah watched them. That was the problem. He wasn't watching Andrew. He was watching the way Tina stood in front of him. How she didn't hesitate. How she didn't ask permission. How she didn't look back to check if Andrew needed her. She already knew he did.
Crisp winter thickened, flooding the space around Elijah in uneven waves. The control he'd maintained earlier was slipping—not violently, not yet—but cracking along invisible seams.
