ALEXANDER
I watched from the window as Roman was being bullied.
At first, I thought about stepping in immediately, ending the confrontation before it escalated. But I didn’t. I wanted to see what he would do on his own. I wanted to see whether he’d defend himself, whether he had even the faintest inkling of what instincts he could tap into.
It didn’t take long to realize what I already suspected. He didn’t move. Not really. He tried to hold his stance, yes, but he let himself be pushed, shoved, and struck. His movements were cautious, hesitant, measured in a way that exposed him rather than protected him.
Part of me understood. He was a stranger here, someone trying to fit into a world he didn’t remember, didn’t understand. His loyalty to the Luna, his presence in this packhouse—it wa
