Caesar's POV
The real data reached my desk within the hour.
I sat back in my leather chair, scanning the report Marcus handed me. The corner of my mouth lifted slightly. "Good."
Marcus studied my face, clearly trying to gauge my mood. "Are you still angry with Miss Lockwood, Alpha?"
I didn't respond.
He pressed on anyway, nodding toward the bruise on my cheekbone. "She doesn't even know you're hurt. If she did, she'd definitely be concerned."
The words made me freeze.
Memories surfaced unbidden—being 27 years old, coming home from karate practice covered in bruises.
Viya couldn't have been more than 13, still tiny and wide-eyed. She'd take one look at the purple marks on my arms and burst into tears.
Crying harder than I ever did over the injuries themselves.
