Trevor felt like his whole world was collapsing. His blood was pounding in his ears—but Lucas was just sleeping.
He didn't move. Just stood there, caught between the doorway and the tiled floor, still bracing for something worse. Still waiting for a sound, a shift, anything that would make the fear worth it. But there was nothing. Just warm water, low steam, and a sleeping man who didn't know what he was.
And that was the problem.
Lucas didn't know. Not really.
Not why dominant alphas went mad without a bond. Not why the silence felt like punishment. Not why Trevor couldn't sleep most nights without feeling like something was clawing under his skin, begging for relief that suppressants couldn't touch.
He didn't know what it meant to be like Trevor.
