The doors of the east wing clicked shut, sealing out the rest of the estate. In the grand corridor, Kaelan and Marcus had exchanged a brief, tense look of mutual exhaustion before retreating to their respective quarters, leaving Malcolm and Dahmer in suffocating isolation.
The silence between them didn't last a second. The moment they stepped across the threshold of the master bedroom, Dahmer's slender fingers wrapped around Malcolm's wrist with an unyielding, territorial grip. Without a word, he forcefully but smoothly guided the towering S-tier Alpha toward the edge of the plush mattress, pressing down on his broad shoulders until Malcolm sat down.
Dahmer stood over him, his silver eyes burning with a raw, unchecked intensity. The practiced, soft facade of "Luca Vane" was entirely gone, replaced by the sharp, calculating aura of the Enigma who ran the Genetic Evolution Matrix. Yet, beneath that clinical brilliance, something deeply volatile was fracturing.
