The city sprawls beyond the glass wall like a living thing—veins of amber and gold threading through the darkness. I stand before the window, my gaze fixed on the world beyond the cold glass, watching the city move without me.
It's been a week.
Seven days since that night. Since those hands found me in the darkness—sure, unyielding, as though they had every right to touch me.
I still feel the ghost of it. The phantom weight of his grip around my waist. The warmth of his breath against my ear.
My Alpha.
Two days.
It took my body two full days to recover. Even with the resilience, stamina, and recovery of an SS-Class Alpha, I was confined to bed, every muscle aching, my skin covered in bruises. Most of the marks have faded into faint shadows now, but the memory of them still burns whenever I close my eyes.
My hand rises almost unconsciously, my fingertips brushing against the cold glass. The chill seeps into my skin, sharp enough to make me pause, though I don't pull away.
