"Your toy? I haven't even f*****g recovered fully yet, Alpha," Maya snapped, her voice hoarse but fierce as she lifted the hem of her blanket, revealing her bandaged legs.
Her tone was bold, but her voice trembled.
Pain still screamed from her limbs, and her skin clung to the sheets like sweat-soaked silk.
Alpha Logan smirked, dark, devilish, the kind of smirk that made you forget your own name.
"That means you only have seven days to heal properly, darling. Tick-tock," he said, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist. “I don’t like my toys broken for too long.”
Before she could react, the old man Maya remembered from the accident, the white-haired, wrinkled figure who’d pulled her from the blood slicked asphalt, stepped into the room. His aura was calm, commanding even in silence. H
