The elevator doors whispered open onto the Alpha floor, but the tranquility of the suite was now tainted by the cold realization that their sanctuary had been breached. Jackson released me from his fierce embrace, but his hand immediately settled on the back of my neck, a possessive, grounding grip. His face, minutes ago alight with domestic pleasure, was now a mask of rigid, focused power.
“Go to the main seating area, Amethyst. Don’t move from the center of the suite,” Jackson commanded, his voice low and raspy, the sound of an Alpha suppressing a snarl.
I knew better than to argue. The time for softness was over; Jackson was in crisis mode, and his authority was absolute. I walked obediently to the large sofa, but my mind was anything but calm. The sight of the hooded figure in the re
