I slam my hand on the table. The sound echoes, sharp and cutting.
"Enough!" I shout, my voice breaking through the tension, cold, sharp, dangerous—angrier than I thought I could be.
Zyke stares at me in silence.
His pheromones crawl across my skin, pressing, testing, waiting for me to bend.
I stay still.
Then he leans back in his chair, slow and deliberate, as if he owns the room—and says calmly,
"Finally. Your acting ends. You've come out in your real face… Zyren Kael."
Something inside me snaps.
Anger burns inside me. It doesn't stay contained—it spreads, screaming beneath my skin.
I look down.
Did I really shout like that?
Like him?
Like real Zyren Kael...?
I didn't mean to.
But this man—this pathetic alpha—has been pressing every nerve, dragging it out of me on purpose.
I lift my head. My gaze locks onto him.
"Brother," I say, voice low and controlled, "do you enjoy this version of me that much?"
