Dahmer looked up at Malcolm, his silver eyes searching the conflicted contours of the Alpha's face. The silence in the wake of his admission hung between them, thick and suffocating. Slowly, Dahmer shifted his position on the bed, his movements fluid and entirely unbothered by his own disheveled state. He tilted his head, a faint, almost delicate curiosity softening his sharp features.
"Are you that concerned about me, Malcolm?" Dahmer asked, his voice a low, melodic murmur that seemed to cut straight through the static in the room. "Are you truly that afraid to hurt me?"
