Alpha Logan’s grip was firm but not harsh as he held Maya’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that might have been comforting if she weren’t so wound up. His voice was low, deep with that Alpha authority she used to love.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you these days, Maya,” he whispered. “You still need to relax… recover. Your body isn’t ready for this constant stress.”
Maya stared at him, unblinking. She didn’t bother answering....what was the point? Words were wasted when the person in front of you had already made up his mind.
A knock at the door broke the silence. Two of Logan’s maids stepped in, heads bowed. They moved quickly and quietly, packing his things... watches, guns, silver-coated knives, and other weapons—into a small black box.
Logan glanced back at
