The air was heavy with false mourning as Damian and Lucian arrived at the Gamma’s estate. The estate, draped in the somber silence of grief, seemed almost too still—as if the walls themselves waited, watching what would unfold.
At the sound of their arrival, servants scrambled to announce them. The Gamma, dressed in black robes of mourning, appeared at the grand entrance, his face a mask of sorrow. His eyes, red from forced tears, glistened in the torchlight. As Damian and Lucian dismounted, the Gamma hurried toward them, shoulders shaking as he pretended to weep.
“My Alpha… my Beta… I—” his voice broke, or so he intended it to sound. “I’m grateful you came… in this hour of sorrow… I have lost my mate… my heart…”
Damian, ever the controlled Alpha, placed a firm hand on the Gamma’s shoul
