Rayan's Perspective
The sound of porcelain shattering echoed like thunder.
Rayan froze, heart hammering, as Kael's teacup slipped from his fingers and burst against the marble floor.
"Kael?"
No answer.
The Alpha swayed, one hand braced on the counter, the other pressed to his temple. His chest rose in uneven breaths, as though every inhale dragged shards of glass into his lungs.
Rayan's stomach dropped.
For days he had told himself Kael was exaggerating, that the Alpha's stoic calm meant everything was fine. But now—seeing his towering figure buckle under invisible weight—Rayan felt cold terror run through him.
He darted forward, hands shaking as he gripped Kael's arm. "Kael, look at me! What's wrong?!"
Kael's Perspective
Heat. Poison. A tide he could no longer suppress.
His body screamed in betrayal, but when Rayan's hands touched him—small, trembling, desperate—Kael forced himself to stay upright. He couldn't let him see. He couldn't—
