The soft hum of mana-infused silence filled the lavish hotel room. Faint moonlight bled through the tall windows, casting pale silver streaks across the plush carpet and elegant walls. The air was still—eerily so.
Nyxara lay motionless, her form curled just a few feet away from Alex. Her golden eyes were wide open, glowing faintly in the dark. They weren't relaxed. They were fixed on the man sitting upright on the bed.
Alex.
But not the Alex she knew a few hours ago.
Not the one who smiled—rarely, but genuinely. Not the one who stroked her fur, or teased her, or sat in long, thoughtful silences filled with the quiet storm of memory and purpose.
This version of Alex sat like a blade—cold, sharp, and silent.
His breath had steadied, but that was worse. Because it was too steady. Controlled to the point of unnatural.
